WASTELAND part II
by Kumoko235
Summary: Four years have passed since Alice met the masked man. Now she wanders the vast Wasteland, an Angel of Death, a punisher of the wicked and evil. But then fate takes a turn. Sequel to WASTELAND.
1. CHAPTER I

**A/N: ****It's been awhile, but I kept my promise. Here it is, WASTELAND part II. I hope those who enjoyed the first will find this entertaining as well. For those who haven't read the first, you should probably do so before reading this, seeing as how this is a sequel.**

**Note that I do have a life, so don't expect a new chapter every day.**

**That's all I have to say. Please enjoy and review. The more reviews I receive the faster this story may update (hint/hint).**

**NOTE: Chapter updated.**

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><p>The cry of a young child. A scream of terror from his teenage mother.<p>

The roar of an assault rifle.

"Kill the bitch!"

I slid across the dusty metal of a wrecked Corvega, slipping into cover behind its thick body as 5.56mm rounds shredded the air around me, pockmarking the already ruined automobile. I pressed my back to the car, keeping my head low as gunfire created a veil of death above me. A gloved hand held tightly to my .45 revolver, its tempered steel glistening in the afternoon sun.

"The _Angel of Death_? Ha! You're nothing but a little bird who flew too high. It's time to clip those wings of yours," taunted the raider leader, urging his cohorts forward. "This pathetic myth ends here."

A brave raider leaped over the car after me, shrieking a manic battle cry as he swung a metal baseball bat at my head. I rolled away from the attack, the aluminum bat clanging loudly against the rusted metal of the car where my head had just been. Now in the line of fire, I ran full sprint through the deadly barrage of bullets and towards a ruined Highwayman. I dove through the air, the tail of my coat flapping in the wind behind me. A stray bullet tore by just centimeters from my faces, taking with it several strands of straw colored hair.

Time seemed to slow as I took aim. A single gunshot brought down the raider leader, destroying his left knee with a spray of blood and bone. I landed hard on my back, skipping across the densely packed sand like a stone on water and behind the shelter of the car. I brought my gun up once more and fired twice into the chest of the pursuing raider, killing him almost instantly.

The gunfire ceased and a spent magazine fell to the ground with a soft _thud_. The raider, the last standing, fumbled to reload his rifle. I wasted no time in getting back up to my feet and swung myself up and over the car. The now panicking raider managed to slide in a fresh clip and took aim, but I was faster. Two shots in quick succession: one through the heart and the other through the neck. The raider fell, dead before he hit the sandy desert ground.

"Dammit!" raved the injured raider, his leg folded uselessly beneath him. "I'll kill you!"

I pulled down the ragged scarf that covered the lower half of my face. A flick of my wrist snapped open the magnum's chamber. I checked the ammo. One shot remaining. Another flick of the wrist closed the weapon. I spun the cylinder and waited for it to go still before taking aim at the final raider.

"You fucking bitch!" screamed the raider.

My voice was soft but firm. "You're just a dog who needs to be put down."

"Fuck you!" The raider reached for the assault rifle laying near him, raising it with one hand.

I squeezed the trigger. Fire erupted from the end of my weapon's barrel, the .45 bullet flying with enough force to nearly decapitate the man. The raider fired several shots uselessly into the air before he finally fell motionless to the ground, crimson blood pooling around him.

I dropped my arm, holding the magnum at my side. "Idiots."

The child was still crying, his mother's arms wrapped protectively around him. They had taken refuge behind one of the many cars that lay abandoned along the lonely stretch of highway. The mother, not much older than myself, looked towards me, fear still splayed out across her sunburnt face. She stood with her son in her arms, her dark eyes not once leaving my own.

"Thank you," she sputtered finally. "Thank you. They would have killed is like they did the others. I don't have much but..."

I raised a hand to silence her. I then pointed north along the highway. "There's a town a couple of miles down the road. Find the bar and tell the bartender what happened. His name is Ronald. He'll help you."

The young mother nodded in understanding and rushed off down the highway with her small son still wrapped in her arms. I watched her for several minutes until she was nothing more than a speck far off in the distance, and then turned to the task of looting the bodies for whatever goods I could find.

Just another day in my life.


	2. CHAPTER II

**A/N: My apologies. Took a little longer than expected, but here is Chapter II. Was originally going to be longer, but decided to split it up. Enjoy and review, and expect the next chapter before next month.**

**Also, the characters in this chapter are original, just if anybody's wondering.**

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><p>"I see you found another stray."<p>

I paid Ronald little attention as I took a seat at the bar, dropping my – _his_ – rucksack beside one of the many stools that lined the dusty counter. The lights inside the dilapidated building were dim and the air heavy, nearly suffocating, the windows too clogged with grime and sand to open properly. A few others seeking shelter from the unforgiving summer heat of the wasteland lounged nearby, crowded around tables or seated alone. Most were already drunk.

_Gordian's_ was the only bar left open in town. Hell, it was the only bar left open this side of Indianapolis. It was little more than a hole in the wall situated within a hole of a town. Only passersby or those looking to drown their sorrows in cheap booze frequented the place. The other townsfolk avoided the bar as if Ronald, the current owner of this _fine _establishment, had contracted the New Plague. Too many undesirables gathered in one place often meant broken bones, missing teeth, and gunshot wounds, as well as the occasional Power Fist to the face. Many people had nothing left to lose in a world that had shunned them; drunken brawls were a constant threat but that did not deter Ronald from turning a profit. I had witnessed firsthand the double barreled shotgun that he kept loaded just under the counter, within easy reach whenever someone needed to be _dissuaded_ from trashing the place.

I sighed as I lay my head against the cool countertop, exhausted from yet another day spent scouring the wastes. Ronald asked if I needed a drink, not once pausing in his task of washing a dirty mug with an equally filthy dishrag. I nodded my head and he went to fetch me something.

This town had been my _home_ for several months now, the longest I had ever been in any one place since losing my parents nearly four years ago. Ronald, a large and balding man in his late fifties, had sheltered me after I had been injured during a raider ambush. One, a kid really, had been a lucky shot. Bleeding out, I had staggered into this town. The raiders tore through after me, and it was only by the stubbornness of Ronald that I wasn't handed over in exchange for amnesty. I repaid my debt the moment I could walk.

The raiders would no longer be a problem.

Ronald returned with a glass of water in hand. "Here you go. Drink up."

I lifted my head and stared at the glass sitting before me, watching as a drop of condensation slid down the cool outer surface. "Water? You don't have anything just a bit stronger?" I asked. "Like some Gin or Whiskey?"

"We don't serve alcohol to minors here," answered Ronald bluntly, returning to his dishes.

"Minor? Raiders call me the _Angel of Death_ and you won't give me a beer?"

Ronald glanced my way. "That little persona of yours may keep the raiders in line but that doesn't change the fact that you're still underage."

"Says who?" I motioned to the other patrons in the bar. "I go through more shit in one day than any of these sorry sacks of crushed hopes and dreams do in their entire lifetimes!" The others neither heard me nor cared. One nodded in drunken agreement.

"The law, that's who."

"The law? You mean a law written by a now defunct government decades ago? A law that, for all intent and purposes, no longer exists? I'm pretty sure you won't be jailed for disregarding what some jackass wrote years ago, so get me something will ya. Something strong. I've had a long day."

"The law says no alcohol is to be served to minors, whether the government still exists to enforce it or not. Do you know where our society would be without laws?" Ronald set aside the now slightly cleaner mug and began working on another. "If you want something then you'll have to go somewhere else."

_What society_, I thought sourly. "But the nearest bar is in Indianapolis! Do you know how far Indianapolis is from here?! I might as well just wander through the desert and hope I get lucky enough to stumble across some poor bastard's liquor supply."

"I suggest you get started then."

I relented with a _hmph_ and took the water. It was bitter and no doubt irradiated with God knows what, but my body was grateful for the cooling hydration. I downed the entire glass.

When I was not exploring the wastes or trading for supplies I usually spent my time lounging around the bar. Today was no exception. I sat with my back against the countertop, playing a game on my _Pip-Boy 3000_ that involved making lines using differently shaped blocks. Later I would head to the General Store to sell what little loot I had found, hopefully making enough caps to afford a meal tonight. Ronald was kind enough to let me stay in the bar's attic rent free but he wasn't about to hand out free dinners. I had gone many a night without food, and Ronald could really care less.

The door swung open, allowing blinding sunlight to fill the dim bar. A group of men strolled inside, loud and as if they owned the place. They wore armor that was roughly patched together with stray bits of metal. AK-74 rifles, all in dire need of repair, hung off of their shoulders. Emblazoned on their armor in blood red paint, shining slightly in the sunlight, was the silhouette of a vulture.

"Barkeep, beers for me and my boys!" ordered the group's leader with a hearty laugh. He was a shorter man with fiery auburn hair cut close to his scalp.

"Coming up," acknowledged Ronald, turning to pour the drinks.

I spun around on the barstool so that I faced the counter. "Why do you tolerate _scum_ inside your bar?" I sneered, reaching a gloved hand inside my worn coat and gripping the holstered .45 magnum. I was tempted to shoot them now.

Ronald shrugged without looking at me. "I don't care as long as they pay their tabs and refrain from killing anybody." He shot me a glance. "The same goes for you. Don't need you making a mess of my bar... again."

The short man commandeered a round table for himself and his gang: a massive man with the face of a gorilla, a sickly man covered in jagged tattoos, and a lanky teenager with long curly hair. They sat not too far from where I was, talking loudly amongst themselves and generally being a nuisance. I eyed them suspiciously, though without being obvious about it.

Ronald handed them their drinks. The short man and the man with the jagged tattoos drained their mugs in several large gulps, barking for refills almost immediately. The teenager sipped at his, unsure if he liked the taste of the brew or not. The gorilla of a man did nothing but stand like a statue, breathing heavily.

"What happened to not serving minors," I griped as Ronald returned to his usual spot behind the counter. He simply ignored me.

The short man drained his second drink before spinning to face the others inside the bar. He spoke loudly so as to address everyone in attendance. "Give me some attention you lowlives, adventurers, and assholes." All eyes turned towards the raiders. "Who here wants to make a few extra caps? The Vultures need a few extra hands whether you're a good shot or just standing around looking pretty. Pay's more than enough to line ya pockets. Buy a drink and a whore or three."

A group of travelers in the corner looked interested. They were all young and no doubt seeking an adventure. The man's offer, his call for excitement, seemed almost too good to be true.

More than likely, it was. The travelers were naïve; they would end up being killed before the day was out. Raiders could/should never be trusted. Their _job_ undoubtedly involved wasting some poor bloke who'd gone and pissed them off.

"Don't make a mess," said Ronald just loud enough for me to hear.

I smiled. "No promises."

"Any takers?" asked the short man, waiting for someone, anyone to step up.

"What kind of job is it?" I asked, sliding down from the barstool and onto my feet. "Might be interested if the pay's good enough."

The gang leader looked me over once before laughing hysterically. He was soon joined by his men (minus the gorilla) and most of the bar patrons save for Ronald and the local townsfolk who remained silent. He spoke once he had calmed himself. "This work is a little too dangerous for a little girl like you. Wouldn't want ya to fall and scrape your knees."

"I can handle myself," I said, keeping my composure. I hated being looked down on due to my gender, age, height, or any other superficial reason. It was not how one looked but what one could do. I had learned that from _him_.

"Maybe we should give her a chance," suggested the tattooed man, a sly grin on his ragged face. "A little birdie like yourself shouldn't be in a dive like this. You would look so much better riding along with the Vultures, or maybe riding my..."

I interrupted him. "Sorry, but as a general rule I try not to affiliate with people who look like a mole rat's ass... or smell like one for that matter."

The tattooed man stood, his gangly frame towering above me. "What you say you bitch!"

"Hard of hearing too? I said I don't associate with rabid ghouls like yourself."

The tattooed man shot his hand forward to strike me. A big mistake. I moved as a blur, avoiding the strike and taking hold of the offending arm. The man was caught off guard and easily brought down, his head slamming into the table with enough force to splinter the dusty wood. He fell to the floor, writhing in pain from his now broken beak of a nose and bleeding profusely. The other raiders reached for their rifles but, as always, I was faster. A sweep of the leg sent the teenager sprawling. The gorilla stumbled as a thick glassed mug slammed into his face, shattering into hundreds of refracting shards. I spun to face the gang leader, the barrel of my magnum pressed against his forehead, the hammer drawn back and ready to fire.

The man stared unblinkingly into my eyes of icy blue. The other patrons of the bar had fallen completely silent by now, their mouths agape after witnessing a small girl best four men easily twice her size. Ronald shook his head but continued on with his dishes.

I merely smiled. "I can handle myself."

The gang leader chuckled despite the fact that his life could end at my discretion. "A little precocious, aren't we? Much higher caliber than the standard drunkard or shitwad. Maybe the Vultures could use someone like you."

I lowered my arm, relaxing the hammer of the magnum yet keeping my finger against the trigger. "Depends," I intoned. "What kind of work do you have in mind?"

The collective breath held inside the bar was released. The two raiders pushed themselves up to their feet and rushed to the aid of the tattooed man. The gorilla glanced my way, daggers in his eyes, blood dripping freely from the lacerations on his face.

The gang leader smiled. "Barkeep, refills for me and my boys. And bring something for our new friend here." Ronald obliged and was soon handing out the beer. I was given another glass of water though I didn't complain. I perched myself on the table and waited for the man to drain his glass of brew, sipping at my own drink with little interest.

The gang leader sighed contently as he finished the beer, then he asked me a question. "So, where did a tiny thing like yourself learn to kick Taboo's ass like that?" Taboo, the tattooed man, his nose crooked and swollen, remained quiet, staring at me with such hate that even the most fearsome of deathclaws would blanch. Blood covered his entire front, the Vulture emblem no longer visible.

I sipped at my water, telling the man that I had spent years out in the wastes and left it at that.

"A person of few words? I like that. Doesn't complicate things." The gang leader smiled, a sharp grin crossing his face that could slice the thick air between us. He took another drag of his beer. "So get this, some bastard's been giving us trouble for the longest while now. Killing our boys while we try to make an honest living. Now that just ain't right."

_Honest __living __my ass_, I thought.

The man continued. "Some, the superstitious fucks really, think this guy has something to do with that _Angel of Death_ nonsense, but that's bullshit and we know it. He's nothing but some punk who made the mistake of tangling with the Vultures, and now he's gonna get what's coming to him.

"We cornered him like that rat that he is. Only problem is that he's dug in real tight, making life real difficult for us all. Each second that bastard lives is another second he has to pull something out of his ass. We need a few more hands to smoke him out before that happens, understand?"

"You want me to be a distraction," I hazarded. "That's a good way to end up dead."

"Look, the bastard is surrounded and going nowhere, but my boss is losing his patience. We try to storm the place and we allow him a chance to escape, and I doubt he'll let himself be trapped into a corner like that again. We simply don't have the manpower and my boss is not one to wait for reinforcements. Hell, it took everything just to convince him to let me scrounge around for some mercs."

I sighed. "I don't put my life on the line for free."

The man grinned. "Wouldn't expect you to."


	3. CHAPTER III

**A/N: This was originally supposed to be the second half of CHAPTER II, but felt it would work better by splitting the chapter into two (or I was lazy and didn't want to finish it at that time, take your pick). Would have been done sooner but the beginning was a pain for me to write (writer's bloc). Note that all characters in this chapter, and this story, are original. Also, this chapter has some more intense language, though not that much, just FYI.**

**Hope you enjoy CHAPTER III. Please leave a review (praise or criticisms). I usually update faster with reviews (FYI).**

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><p>I could clearly see the ruins of the old town far out in the distance, the derelict buildings dark against the backdrop of the forever blue sky. That was where the <em>bastard<em> – as he was so kindly referred to as by the raiders – had taken shelter, finding refuge within an abandoned church that lay nestled on the outskirts of the decay and the rot.

The ruins had once been a thriving community many years ago in the past, but now it was nothing more than a relic of the old world, of a time before the Great War and the devastation that followed. I had explored this area several weeks prior with little success. Many of the buildings had been reduced to little more than empty shells, their wooden and steel skeletons laid bare against the harsh desert elements. Those few that remained standing intact had been picked clean by scavengers, leaving nothing of adequate value to justify salvaging.

All that was left was a memory of what had once been, and even that too was slowly being eroded away by the encroaching desert sands. Given time, nothing would remain.

The four raiders led the march down the lonely stretch of road, moving purposefully towards the town and to their prey. They were closely followed by the young travelers, all too eager to make an easy buck at the expense of another. I brought up the rear, walking leisurely and at my own pace, my coat worn open both to allow what little breeze that existed to reach my bare skin and to give me quick access to my revolver if needed.

Taboo glanced back my way, his beaky nose swollen and bent awkwardly beneath dull eyes that still burned brightly with an intense hatred. I gave him a wry grin and he quickly turned away.

"Keep ya heads down and move quickly,:" barked the gang leader, his voice uncharacteristically stern as we made our way through the dead town. "We're almost there. Bastard is a damn good shot. Be a shame if you got lobotomized from two hundred yards."

The church stood alone in a small clearing, the surrounding buildings having long ago collapsed in on themselves. Ivy, dead and brown, clung tightly to the crumbling facade, taking hold where bricks and mortar had fallen free and reaching high up to the damaged steeple where the old bell sat cracked and rusted. Many of the stained glass windows had been shattered, and the heavy oak doors sat broken from their hinges.

A cursory glance told me immediately that things had not gone well for the raiders. The dead very nearly outnumbered the living, their bodies strewn haphazardly along the sandy street. Maybe a dozen or so remained standing, hiding behind what little cover they could afford, surrounding the church in a loose circle.

Movement from the second story caught my eye and I instinctively ducked lower.

A raider saw us approaching and waved us over, impatience splayed out across his tanned face. We made quick time to where he stood, using the few cars on the road as protection, dashing from one to another without incident. Relief came to us all as we reached the safety of the truck.

"Is this it?" bellowed the man in a low and demeaning tone. He was tall, powerfully built with coarse, dark hair and a face framed by a neatly trimmed beard. Unlike the others he wore industrially manufactured combat armor, a vulture silhouette on his right pauldron in blood red paint. "I expected something more. Instead you bring me children. Worst, far fewer than what you had promised. I trust you have your reasons, but remember that my time is not something to waste. Not even for you, Kent."

Kent, the leader of the motley crew of bandits that had recruited both me and the ignorant travelers, simply shrugged against the criticisms of his superior. "Come on, Raul. Small towns. Not like I could gallop down to Indy and back. I'm good but I'm not that good." A prideful smile came to his face then. "But don't you worry. I'm a man who respects quality over quantity."

The raider took me by the arm and pulled me forward so that I stood front and center. Raul, the Vulture leader, gazed me over with a scrutinizing eye, clearly not impressed by my small, five foot, hundred pound or so frame.

I wouldn't have been impressed either.

"Don't let her looks fool you," continued Kent, trying his best to sell my worth to his boss. "She's good. Way good. Took me and my men down in the blink of an eye! Even broke Taboo's nose to boot! I bet you that not even that rat bastard could keep up with her."

"A crippled baby could take your men down," dryly commented a raider from a nearby car, fiddling listlessly with his SMG. "And one shouldn't take pride in breaking Taboo's nose. For fuck's sake it's not hard to miss something _that_ size."

Taboo stepped forward, unable or unwilling to contain his rising anger. "Say that shit again and I'll filet you alive you slimy bastard!"

"Give it a break already," I muttered, loud enough to be heard by all those around me including Taboo. "It's not like anyone is afraid of you, and all that yelling is really starting to give me a headache. So just shut up for once and be quiet."

Taboo immediately turned his focus to me, his voice little more than a growl. "I don't care what Kent or anyone says. I should fucking slit your throat and skull fuck your corpse, you fucking bitch!"

I reached up and took a firm hold on Taboo's injured nose, twisting it as hard as I could. He fell to his knees, yowling in a fit of agony. "You should really try to be less vulgar," I told him, venom in my voice. I gave a final twist before releasing him. He fell back onto the pavement, clutching his throbbing nose in an attempt to will the awful pain away. A few raiders laughed at his misfortune, especially Kent who found this all to be delightfully hilarious.

A light chuckle escaped from Raul as he looked down on the injured Taboo. "She is quite the find. Maybe I was right in allowing you to hire a few extra hands. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I didn't come out all this way to exchange pleasantries," I reminded him.

A hearty laugh escaped from Raul's lips at my reply. "Straight to the point. If only my men were as motivated. You hear that you sacks of waste! You could all learn a thing or two from this girl. A child at that!" He glanced over to Kent then. "Take care of it. I trust that my time won't be wasted."

Kent gave a curt nod before proudly stating, "I assure you that everything will go exactly as planned." His tone changed the moment he peered down at Taboo. "Get ya sorry ass up off the ground. I'm embarrassed just by looking at you."

Taboo shot me a look of pure hatred as he climbed up to his feet.

Reaching the _bastard_ would have been near impossible for the raiders alone. There was only a single entrance into the church but any number of ways to escape from the upper floors if one was willing to risk the fall. Raul's original plan had been to simply use their numerical advantage and charge in guns a blazing. It was a tried and true tactic but their opponent this time around was crafty. Breaking the encirclement of raiders would create a gap, one for which _he _could slip through. Alternatively, doing nothing turned this whole situation into a battle of attrition, one that the raiders had so far been losing. They simply did not have the manpower to end this quickly or easily.

Kent, the Vulture second in command and Raul's right hand man, had supposedly solved this dilemma. The new plan was simple really: using hired guns to maintain ground, a small group would be able to make for the church and ultimately to where the _bastard_ lay in wait. Forced into a firefight, Raul and his men would be free to swarm the church with little fear of losing their prey. Outgunned and with nowhere to go, the man that had wrong the Vultures would have little chance of seeing tomorrow.

"Taboo. Morris. Why don't you take our lady friend here and pay that _bastard_ a visit." The gorilla of a man nodded in acknowledgement. Taboo, on the other hand, was appalled at the notion of working alongside me. The feeling was mutual. Kent looked my way. "Keep ya head down. He's a fucking good shot with that rifle of his."

I held up my magnum. "Don't worry. I'm a better shot."

A small chuckle. "I wouldn't bet against it."

Kent barked his last few orders. Word was passed down the circle and everyone took their positions. I readied myself to run along with Taboo and the abnormally large Morris. Taboo sneered in my general direction but I ignored him. Still, I would be keeping a close eye on him in case he had any funny ideas.

A naïve raider peered out from behind the car he hid behind. The deafening report of a rifle tore through the air; the back of the raider's skull exploded outward in a spray of blood and brain matter. His lifeless body hit the ground before the echo could even die away.

That was all the signal the raiders needed. They opened fire.

Kent yelled for us to go. I led the charge out into the open, Taboo behind me and Morris behind him, who, surprisingly, was able to keep pace. Gunfire rained into the church from all sides, pulverizing the brick facade into a thick dust that clouded the dry air. A rifle round struck the ground near my feet, a puff of dirt marking the impact. The besieged man was able to fire one last shot before being forced back into cover. A raider screamed out behind me and one less weapon fired into the church.

I sprinted into the church foyer. Taboo and Morris came in a moment later, the tattooed man cursing as he coughed on the mortar dust. Outside, the gunfire raged on for a full other minute before falling silent.

The main floor of the church was in as much disrepair as the outside. The long benches meant for the congregation were rotting away into nothing. Several rows were missing entirely, stolen and no doubt used for firewood. In the front, next to the altar, the statue of some lost saint had very nearly collapsed. The ceiling had fallen through in several places and I could easily see into the second floor above and in some cases the blue of the sky.

Traps had been placed to catch the unwary, including several mines and at least one rusted bear trap. Taboo, unfortunately, noticed them as well and avoided them. I smiled at the thought of him stepping into a bear trap like the animal that he was. The only humane thing to do would be to put him down.

"What are you smiling 'bout?" growled Taboo, having noticed my grin.

"Oh, nothing much."

"Better be nothing."

We found the stairwell that led up to the second story. Another bear trap sat open at the bottom. We stepped over and made our way up the creaking steps. The hulking form that was Morris took point. I was next, and then Taboo.

I sighed. "I guess it's now or never."

"What the fuck are you..."

I jumped back, slamming my hips into the chest of Taboo. The tattooed raider lost his balance and fell with a yelp, landing atop the awaiting bear trap. The metal teeth snapped shut around his head, slicing through his dirty skin and crunching down on his skull. His screams filled the church, but were drowned out by my magnum as I fired three times into the back of Morris. The massive raider crumbled and fell. I hopped over the fallen Morris, ignoring the cries from Taboo.

He didn't deserve the compassion of a life ending bullet.

I sprinted through the upper floor, my eyes rapidly scanning for more traps as I went. The raiders outside had no doubt heard Taboo and the gunshots, so it would only be a matter of seconds before they rushed in after us. I needed to reach the man before then.

Movement in the room ahead.

Shouts from outside.

I skirted around the hole that had engulfed the floor, reaching out to the open doorway. The wooden frame splintered as a rifle round tore through. The bullet deflected and missed my head by inches, spraying me with fine shards of rotted wood as it passed. I spun my back to the grimy wall, my heart beating fast in my narrow chest.

This was twice today that I had almost died.

"Don't shoot!" I called out. "I'm not one of them! I'm on your side!" I gripped my magnum by the barrel and held it out for the man to see. My eyes were squeezed shut as I waited for another bullet to take off my hand, but the man inside the room refrained from firing again. Satisfied that I wasn't about to be shot, I lowered my arm. "I'm coming in."

I moved quickly into the room, doing my best to not make sudden movements should he fire.

"I'm here to help. We need to..." My voice caught in my throat.

Sitting opposite me, his back to the wall, was the man who had caused the raiders so much trouble. His hunting rifle, battered from years of use, lay propped against his leg. A gloved hand held tightly on to his abdomen, blood leaking between his fingers and down to the floor beneath him. His ragged breath was distorted to the tones of a mechanical whine. His eyes were a reflection of my own, staring back icy and blue along with the rest of the world around me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, pooling in the corners before leaking down to my chin and falling to the faded wooden floorboards below.

The masked man raised a hand and waved.

"It's you..."


	4. CHAPTER IV

**A/N: First off, let me apologize. It took longer than I thought to finish this chapter. It may be me, but I feel that the end of this chapter is a little rushed, but I needed to end it. Also, someone said that I should implement some filler chapters to develop the relationship between Alice and the Masked Man. Expect a little of that in the future. It won't be an annoying filler that takes away from the story, but one that hopefully ties into it all.**

**I'm done now. Enjoy the chapter.**

**NOTE: Chapter Updated.**

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><p>"You're... you're alive!"<p>

I couldn't hold back. I ran to the masked man, the tears falling freely from my disbelieving eyes. I wished to throw my arms around him; to bury my face in something so familiar. But I hesitated. Rivulets of scarlet blood flowed down his side, leaking between his gloved fingers and down to the old and worn floorboards.

The masked man had been shot.

"Oh God, you're hurt!" I exclaimed, panic seeping into my voice. Unable to remain calm, I slid the rucksack from my shoulder and rummaged through it, quickly finding the stimpack that I kept for emergencies. I slid the protective plastic covering from the hypodermic but my thoughts were an incoherent jumble, and so I stood there like an idiot not knowing what to do next.

The masked man reached up and took the stimpack from my shaking hand, nodding his head in thanks. He slid back the sleeve of his coat and stabbed the needle into his arm without so much as a flinch. The small gauge quickly went from _FULL _to _EMPTY_ as the healing medicines and painkillers entered his bloodstream. It was a quick fix only, but that was all that was needed.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, furious at myself for being so panicked.

A shout from outside caught my attention. I chanced a glance through the broken window: the raiders were already making their move, pushing ahead with the plan.

My mind snapped back into focus. "Crap. Can you walk?"

The masked man nodded and I helped him to his feet. I could tell immediately that he was still in pain. He was unsteady and had to lean against a nearby table for support. There was no way he could outrun the raiders in this condition. The gears in my head turned frantically as my mind raced to think of something, anything, as the raiders drew closer with each passing moment.

I could not lose the masked man again. I wouldn't.

Then a plan, a ridiculous one at that, clicked into place.

I turned to the man, urgency in my voice. "Trade me your coat and rifle. I'll lead the raiders away from here so you can escape once they're gone."

The man seemed hesitant.

"Don't worry. I'm not a little girl anymore. I can handle myself in a fight."

The man nodded, understanding that I was not about to give him a choice in the matter. He stripped off his bloodied duster and handed it to me. I held the coat in my hands, rubbing my thumbs against the rough fabric, all too conscious of the fact that I had never seen the man without his coat. He wore a dark undershirt and was thin but with a discernible muscle definition – not that I noticed or anything. I tried to remain levelheaded as I handed over my own coat, completely self-aware that I wore almost nothing underneath it. I was quick to drape the duster over my shoulders and thread my scrawny arms through the too large sleeves.

The man did not remove his filter mask much to my disappointment, but I had more pressing matters to deal with than to worry about his appearance – though my curiosity lingered.

I shook my head clear of all distracting thoughts. "Head south along the old highway until you find a town. Can't be too hard, it's the only settlement within fifty miles. Head to the bar and tell the barkeep that I sent you. He'll help." I pulled the bandana that I wore around my throat up over my nose, tightening the knot in the back so that it would stay in place. I handed over my magnum and, with hunting rifle in hand, set off.

The man reached out, taking the brimmed hat from my head and replacing it with his own. I felt my cheeks growing red, glad that my face was hidden to him. The man nodded. I returned the gesture and turned to leave.

I paused mid step in the doorway. "See you in town."

This _plan_ of mine relied on two things: fooling the raiders and not getting shot. The first would be easy enough. Raiders were not known for their intellect, and as long as I kept my distance they would never know it was me they were chasing and not the masked man. Not being caught or, more importantly, shot would be a bit more challenging.

A frantic scrambling of clumsy footsteps could be heard on the main floor below. Careful to remain undetected, I approached the hole where the floor had fallen through and peered down on the unsuspecting raiders. Several men moved between the pews, their weapons raised and a look of nervousness just visible in the dusty light. One, an older man with a dark mohawk dividing his head, stepped dangerously close to a set landmine, its dull orange light partially hidden beneath a bench.

I looked down the rifle's iron sights, taking aim at the small orb of glowing orange light. No one heard the gunshot, its piercing ring lost to the ensuing explosion as the bomb detonated, incinerating two of the least fortunate raiders who just so happened to be standing near the blast. Taking advantage of what was possibly the best distraction I could afford, I rushed off to the stairwell, coming across three very confused looked men who were currently looking down to where the landmine had only moments before gone off. I drew back the bolt of the rifle, loading another round into the chamber with a metallic _click_. The lead raider spun to face the sound, shock spreading to his face as I fired point blank into his chest. He tumbled back, taking the others down with him. I descended the steps after them, skipping the last few and landing atop the dazed and bleeding heap. By now chaos had consumed the place of worship, allowing me to easily slip unnoticed through a shattered window and out to freedom.

A raider spotted my escape from the building and opened fire. Several more, realizing that their plan had fallen to hell, joined the first, creating a full-auto symphony of gunfire. I leaped to safety behind a small car that lay overturned beside the road, staying low as the assault rifle and SMG rounds tore into the thin metal. When the gunfire broke, I popped out from hiding and fired, hitting the first raider in the arm. The bullet pierced flesh and shattered bone, sending the man screaming to the ground. A quick pull of the bolt and I fired again, hitting a second raider in the chest. The third, a hired gun from town, dove for cover, discarding his SMG in the process.

More raiders circled around the church. I wasted no time in sprinting for the safety of the ruins, putting as much distance as I could between me and the raiders. Several fired in a vain attempt to stop me, but I was already out of weapon range.

A dark shadow fell across the road. Never one to doubt my instinct, I juked to the right, narrowly avoiding a heavy blow that cleaved the air in two beside me, the wicked blade of the weapon digging into the sun softened asphalt. The raider spun, using the weight of his body to rip free the spear and to spring it into a vicious arc that very nearly took my head. Twisting in his hands, the man drove the blade forward in an attempt to skewer me. I stumbled away, the blade piercing my coat and nicking the soft skin of my abdomen. The blade tore free of the fabric, bringing with it a thin trail of my blood as the raider spun into a kick that launched me back and off of my feet. I crashed through a storefront window, the glass shattering around me as I fell into the decaying building, the wind knocked free of my lungs.

I lay still on the dusty floor, staring up at the cracked ceiling that had suddenly become my sky.

The raider stood in the street, the lethal spear held parallel with his arm, blade pointed down. Intricate tribal tattoos swirled and marked his bare torso and thick arms, the dark ink seeming to glow under the harsh sunlight of summer. A mask of bleached bone hid the man's face, and hair as dark as wet mud hung loose around his neck and back. This man, a tribal of the midwestern deserts, had lain in wait should anyone attempt to escape the church.

I picked myself up from the filthy floor, grunting and coughing with the effort as my lungs strained to reinflate themselves. The masked man's hat lay beside me. I grabbed it and, shaking the shards of glass from my straw hair, pulled it down snuggly atop my head. "That hurt," I intoned with a grimace.

The tribal said nothing. He only turned to gaze upon the church.

"Hey!" I was on my feet now, rifle raised with its stock pressed against my shoulder. The tribal turned to face me, the eyes of his mask dark and hollow. I squeezed the trigger and fired the last round with deadly accuracy.

The spear was a blur, slashing the air in a movement that was hard to track with the human eye. The .308 round tore into a car window several yards away, the bullet having been deflected by the man's spear in an inhuman display of skill.

I lowed the rifle. "How the fu..."

_Crack!_

A second of stunned silence, and then everything came crashing down.

The floor broke apart beneath me, my light weight having stressed the damaged boards to their limit. I fell into the awaiting darkness with only a yell to mark my surprise. The tribal threw his arm forward, letting the spear fly free of his fingers. The bladed tip missed its mark as it passed over my head, embedding itself into the wall behind me.

The dust had not yet settled before I was up and moving, picking my way through and around the rubble. I needed to find an exit from the basement before the tribal came down after me. There was little hope of me winning let alone surviving a direct contest against the masked raider, so it was best for me to escape while I still could.

A door caught my eye in the dim light.

The tribal easily cleared the hole above my head, taking a firm grip on his spear before falling down into the pit after me. I slammed the door close and pressed my weight against it in a vain effort to keep back the tribal. The metal blade tore through the wood just centimeters from my head. I yelped and fell back, landing on my backside in the dirt. The door jerked violently as the man tried to force free the stuck weapon, giving me time to scramble to my feet and run.

Steps led me deeper down into the earth and into a tunnel system that ran beneath the old town. I barreled through the darkness, splashing through rancid puddles of stagnant water and tripping into damp stone walls, my illuminated _Pip-Boy_ doing little to aid in my sight. Shouts could be heard; footsteps that were not my own echoed around me.

The tunnel suddenly and without warning ended.

I ran full speed into an unforgiving wall of metal, bouncing back like a rubber ball. Groggy, I rolled over to my hands and knees, a fountain of blood dripping from my mouth from where a tooth had once been. Said tooth lay in a puddle, a pearly white island amidst a sea of red. I swore and stood to my feet, ignoring the pain that racked my body and running my tongue over the new gap in my smile.

_41._

That was the number I saw, etched in white on metal. Using the faint light of my _Pip-Boy_ I more closely examined the wall and was surprised to see that it was fact a door. A massive door in the shape of a gear.

I placed a hand against the cold steel of the door and was blinded as halogen lights suddenly came to life around me. For a moment all I could see was a sterile white, and then opaque spots as my vision slowly returned. I rubbed my eyes, blinking back the spots until my sight was once again clear.

A terminal powered on beside the gear door, its mechanisms whirring in protest.

_Please enter passcode: _._

I stared down at the hazy screen. Computers had never been my strong suit. Sure, I could use my _Pip-Boy_ well enough, but even its higher functions eluded me. I couldn't even pick a lock, much less hack a computer.

A shout echoed further down the tunnel, followed by a chorus of others.

Panic flooded me as I remembered the danger that I was in. I was cornered. Trapped against a wall (a door, but it might as well have been a wall) with nowhere to go or hide. I looked down at the terminal. It was the only way, and I had nothing to lose. I plugged in the first thing that came to mind.

_P.L.E.A.S.E.O.P.E.N._

_Passcode accepted._

I was speechless.

An engine roared to life behind the thick door as the gear was slowly forced from its snug socket. A stench of rot filled my nostrils as the dank air of the bunker rushed out into the tunnel as the door slowly opened. Laying in wait beyond was a hallway that was darker than black. I hated darkness such as this, but I hated dying that much more. Ignoring every fiber of my being that said _stay away_ I ran into the unknown.

Emergency lights came to life, their dull yellow light illuminating my path. A metal door marked as the _ATRIUM_ in bold, white lettering awaited me. I hit the keypad and the door slid open with a grinding _hiss._ The room I found myself standing in was mostly dark even as several more lights found power, though I could still discern the general layout.

The Atrium was spacious and with a high vaulted ceiling, its upper level connected via a series of catwalks. A central tree (nothing more than a husk now) stood tall in the center, and other than that the room was barren save for discarded junk.

The eerie glow of a computer could be seen through a domed window that overlooked everything from high above. The light flickered momentarily before going out completely as something crossed paths before it.

I felt the sudden urge to turn back, to return to the dank tunnels, but was discouraged by the arrival of the raiders who made their presence known long before I actually saw them. Killing the light from my _Pip-Boy_, I made my way to a door on the far side of the atrium. Dusty beams of light swept into the room just as the door closed behind me.

"Bring me his Goddamn head!" roared Raul as he and his raiders stormed into the Vault.

The few lights that remained functioning were barely able to hold back the darkness, leaving me to wander the deserted bunker with little sense as to where I was heading. Raiders could be heard not too far from where I found myself, searching for their prey like a pack of rabid hounds. It was only a matter of time before they found me. I needed a place to hide, to lay low until such a time where I could safely flee the subterranean shelter.

A scream echoed down the empty halls, followed by the sounds of gunfire.

Yellow eyes pierced the darkness. Watching. Hungry. Inching closer to where I stood. The scraping of terrible claws on metal as the creature threw itself forward, flying towards me with its horrid maw spread wide. I dove to the side in a panic. The creature, a massive rodent of unusual size, slammed headfirst into the steel wall, but that did little to slow it. I raised the rifle and fired, but no bullet flew through the air, only a _click_ with each squeeze of the trigger.

With horror, I realized – or more accurately remembered – that I was out of ammo.

The creature lunged forward. Thinking fast, I jammed the barrel of the rifle down its throat. It screeched and thrashed violently, chipping its oversized teeth as it attempted to bite through the tempered metal. I drove the barrel deep, feeling flesh tear and blood flow. The creature fell, injured. I raised a boot and stomped down hard on the rat's triangular head, crushing its skull.

The mutant animal lay still.

"Don't move."

Light shone on me as the man approached, his assault rifle level with the floor, taking aim for where my heart would be. I turned to face the raider, my own rifle held uselessly at my side. The man stepped closer, the hastily attached flashlight blinding in the low light of the bunker.

"Wait...," muttered Kent, no more than ten feet away. He lowered his weapon slightly, keeping the light trained upon me so that I could better be scrutinized. To me he seemed a bit stunned. "You're not that bastard."

"I'm not, am I."

"But..."

"Some legends are more true than you think," I told him then.

The piercing shrill of the rodents filled the hall. Kent spun to find three of the mangy creatures charging recklessly ahead, grey shadows in the dim light of the bunker, their eyes a golden glow the shone brightly in the flashlight's beam. Three quick bursts brought them down. He turned to face me then, but by that time I was already gone.

I was now in the elevator shaft, climbing the emergency ladder with the rifle dangling over my shoulder. The sounds of gunfire echoed throughout the bunker as the massive rodents, having made this place their nest, launched attack after attack against the intruding raiders. This was a stroke of luck on my part. The raiders would be hard pressed to search me out with the rats scavenging the bunker. I only had to make it back to the exit and to the surface.

The hall was clear when I emerged from the elevator shaft. The sounds of extermination were distant here, the raiders having turned their focus to the more heavily infested lower levels. Another bit of luck that I would take full advantage of. Still, I was far from being out of danger. Raiders still scoured the upper sections and I was quite sure that the rodents had full access to anywhere in the shelter.

A flashlight shone ahead of me. I ducked low and found cover within an open ventilation shaft, disappearing just as the raider marched down the hall. I continued on through the ventilation system, soon finding myself in a small room that very much resembled an office. Several bookshelves lined one wall, the books corroded and eaten away by moisture, while a computer station occupied another side of the room. In the center was a large and somewhat imposing desk. Opposite it was the circular window that overlooked the Atrium.

There was movement behind the desk. A single rodent wandered out, pacing the room as if on guard duty. It didn't notice me until it was too late. Holding the rifle by its barrel, I used the weapon as a club and beat the massive rat until it no longer moved or squeaked. Even then I would not stop until I was satisfied that it was good and truly dead. Tired from the exertion, and rather bloody as well, I sat atop the desk, panting hard. Having relaxed a bit, I glanced over to the computer terminal, the only source of light within the room. Someone, perhaps its former owner, was already logged in. More than a bit curious, I decided to read through what I could.

_ 19 January, 2135: Log 2187:_

_ The fire has been dealt with, however the Common Area has suffered extensive damage because of it. Those idiots, all of them. It will be months before everything is fully repaired. Still, the Vault is in one piece. Can't ask for much more I suppose._

_ 27 January, 2135: Log 2195:_

_ The foreman stumbled upon a series of tunnels during construction. A cave system perhaps. I'll have Robertson send some men to investigate. Who knows what we'll find._

_ 05 February, 2135: Log 2201:_

_ The caves are infested with rats. Monstrous things. Best to seal them in before they become a problem down the road. Have too many things on my plate as it is. Pest control is not something I wish to add._

_ 18 February, 2135: Log 2224:_

_Those fucking rats are everywhere. The lower levels are completely infested and Robertson is too inept to do anything about it! They haven't chewed through the power systems yet, so we still have time to handle this mess._

_ 01 March, 2135: Log 2247:_

_ They breed like cockroaches. Kill one and five more take its place. Soon they'll outnumber us! Robertson better handle this or else those rats won't be his only problem._

_ 18 March, 2135: Log 2272:_

_ We can't contain them anymore. At this rate... No. We can still fix this._

_ 29 March, 2135: Log 2300:_

_ I don't have a choice anymore. We have to open the Vault, regulations be damned! We've been completely overrun and I'm not about to die in here. Not like this. There are several other Vaults in this region. Maybe, just maybe one will be willing to help. But I'm not about to hold my breath. The surface will be our home if need be. Not much choice anymore. Anything is better than this._

This was the last entry. I wondered briefly if the former inhabitants had ever made it to safety, but then another thought came to mind. I was in a Vault. A genuine Vault! I had been too preoccupied before to even take notice, but now that I was in relative safety my mind was free to wander.

My _Pip-Boy_ beeped loudly. A high pitched _ping_ that startled me.

_Connection restored to Vault 41 Central Mainframe._

_WARNING: STATE of EMERGENCY in effect._

_Initiating Overseer Directive 312._

_DOWNLOADING DATA._

A loading bar quickly ran across my _Pip-Boy's _screen. When full, the region map was displayed, showing several markers that had not been there previously. They were all Vault locations.

_Vault 42._

_Vault 43._

_Vault 68._

_Vault 69._

_Vault 77._

_Vault 119._

_Vault 121._

A warning tone sounded as someone attempted to access the locked office door. There was a shout from outside and the shuffle of footsteps as more raiders approached. The mob of them attempted to pry open the door. It was firmly shut, but their combined might was enough to gradually force it open. I ducked behind the desk, bumping into the computer and knocking it to the floor where it landed with a dull _crash_. Something inside broke, and a _WARNING_ message was displayed on the now cracked screen.

_WARNING: Emergency Evacuation Authorized._

The alarm system blared to life within the Vault, the shouts of the raiders and the distant hints of gunfire drowned out by the shrill whistle. I could just hear the raiders on the far side of the locked door, startled by the sudden mechanical wails and starting to panic. This was a good a time as any, so I decided to take my leave of the Vault. A quick slide through the ventilation system and I was back into the hall. It was easy enough from there to reach the exit unnoticed. On impulse, I reentered the terminal's passcode, stepping back as the gear door slid close before me, silencing the alarms as thick steel slid into place. It wasn't a permanent solution but it would slow the raiders down considerably, which was good enough for me.

Sick of the subterranean darkness, I made my way back to the surface.


	5. CHAPTER V

**A/N: This is a short chapter. Don't burn me alive because of it. Also, don't expect a lot of action in the next chapter or so.**

**As a final note, I may edit the previous chapters so that everything flows better. Don't expect a change in the plot. If anything, it will only be a change in word choice. Why? Because I'm a perfectionist who finds flaws in most of my works. Then again, I may not change anything. And even if I do, you wouldn't really be missing anything.**

**Please review. Your reviews make me grow stronger.**

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><p>I kicked open the door to <em>Gordian's<em>. Several patrons looked up in surprise, but returned to their drinks upon seeing that it was only me. "Where is he?"

Ronald stood behind the counter (as usual), monotonously washing a filthy mug. He nodded his head towards the back of the bar, where a small hallway led to the restroom, Ronald's bedroom, and the staircase. I rushed up the steps to what was _my_ room – Ronald would never let a stranger bleed out on his own bed – and nearly ran headlong into Marge.

Marge was the town's innkeeper _and_ acting emergency medic. She couldn't cure any disease more advanced than the flu but was remarkable at stitching things back together, a skill developed with years of embroidery. Her greying hair swayed as the peeling green door shut behind her, and her usually stern eyes seemed actually pleased to see me.

"Found yourself a nice man out in the wastes, have you," she said with a teasing smile.

I felt my face go red. "He's a friend. How is he?"

Marge shrugged. "He's either lucky or God doesn't want him yet. The bullet passed straight through and somehow missed everything major in the process. He'll be fine if he stays in bed for a couple of days like I told him." Her smile took a mischievous turn. "And a handsome young man such as that can't be labeled as just a _friend_."

I glared at the aging woman with annoyance and forced myself pass her, standing tall for emphasis – though my height gave me as much impact as a newborn Mole Rat – that I wasn't about to be teased. I pushed the peeling door open and stormed into what was my room, a storage space really with a ratty bed in the most vacant corner. The man stood beside the bed, having just finished tightening the filter mask around his head. His torso was heavily bandaged but other than that he appeared fine.

The masked man lowered his arms and turned my way. I was disappointed that I had missed an opportunity to _see_ him, but I was glad nonetheless that he was here, alive and well and, more importantly, in my presence once again.

"Should really be laying down," muttered Marge behind me. "Kids these days."

"You okay?" I asked, moving more into the room and closer to him.

The masked man nodded once.

"Hasn't said a damn word since he got here," complained Marge.

I shrugged. "He's just a little quiet."

"Hmph. He should be taking it easy, not gearing up for another round of shoot 'em up with some punk raiders." Marge spun on the heels of her feet to leave, allowing the door to creep shut behind her as she went. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Doubt it," I said lightly as the door closed.

Two steps. Two quick steps and I was standing with my body pressed to the man's, my thin arms wrapped tightly around his bandaged torso and my face buried in his chest. He tensed, taken aback by the sudden embrace, but soon relaxed and had his own arms encircled protectively around me, the bottom of his chin just nudging the top of my head.

Tears pooled in my eyes. My voice was low. "Why didn't you come back?"

I didn't expect an answer.


	6. CHAPTER VI

**A/N: Expect some explanations/new mysteries in this chapter. Meet a new character. And maybe laugh a little.**

**As always, review. I may sound like a review hog, but they genuinely keep me going.**

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><p>"What is... this?" I asked with an air of disgust, looking down at the plate of food laid out before me on the small table.<p>

"Pancakes," uttered Marge, filling my cracked glass with freshly squeezed Mutfruit juice.

I poked at the limp circle of goop with my bent fork. "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean _am I sure_? I cooked the damn thing myself! Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Well, it looks a little... dated."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Just let me drive on down to Super-Duper Mart and pick you up a fresh batch with some cinnamon and chocolate chunks and maybe some fresh berries too," spat Marge with heavy sarcasm laced into her voice. "They don't call it a wasteland for nothing sweetheart. And besides, you get what you pay for."

"But I didn't pay anything."

"My point exactly." Her pointed gaze turned to face the masked man who sat across the table from me. He was busying himself with his hunting rifle, repairing the damage that I may have _accidentally_ caused. "What about you? You should really eat something."

I answered for the man. "He doesn't eat much."

"Hmph. Well don't complain when he keels over from hunger." Marge left to attend to the other patrons of her Inn, leaving me and the man alone at the table.

A night had passed since my rescue of the masked man, and despite being injured he was already up and moving with ease, though Marge had insisted that he stay the night at her Inn just in case his injury proved to be worse than it seemed. I had stayed the night at the Inn as well, but with no money to afford a bed I had merely camped outside the man's room like some stray dog. Marge was not one to tolerate freeloaders, so only I knew where I had been last night.

"Sorry about your rifle," I apologized, feeling guilty for damaging something of so high value. Weapons were easy to come across out in the Wasteland, though few were in as such good condition as his. No doubt that he maintained it well, and I had gone and beaten something to death with it.

The man shook his head. I felt that he was telling me not to worry, but it was hard to know for sure. He pulled back the bolt, satisfied with the deep _click_ it produced.

I pushed the _pancakes_ away from me – it was nauseating by just being close to them. "There were giant rats. _Really_ big giant rats crawling all over the Vault. I was kinda surprised by one, so I kind of clubbed it." _Clubbed_ was an understatement. I had beaten the rat like some grotesque piñata, turning the floor a deep crimson by the time I had finished.

The man stopped fiddling with his rifle, lowering the weapon to stare at me instead from behind his mask's amber colored visor. I knew that something I had said had peeked his interest. This was my first time mentioning anything about what had happened after I had left the church. It made sense for him to be curious as to what I had done to draw off the raiders.

"The rats? There were hundreds of them. Giant, nasty things with sharp teeth" – I bit the air several times for effect – "and fur like a hyena."

The masked man shook his head. That wasn't what had caught his attention.

I thought hard for a brief moment. "The Vault?"

The masked man nodded once, though with much enthusiasm.

I smiled. Of course it had been the mention of the Vault. Who _wouldn't_ be impressed by such a find. I began to tell him about the hidden treasure that I had stumbled upon, feeling the excitement return to me as I did. "Yeah. There's a Vault, an actual Vault!, buried beneath the town ruins. _Forty-one_ I think. At least that was the number on the door, which was amazing in its own right. It was _huge _and shaped like a gear, with cogs the size of my head! Of course I didn't get a real chance to look around, seeing as how the raiders and rats were both trying to kill me.

"Oh! But check this out!" I activated my _Pip-Boy_'s map and held my arm so that the man could see the little screen. "It's a map with other Vaults! Isn't that awesome? Since _Forty-one_ would be a pain to explore I figured we could go and check out another one, like _Sixty-nine_ or _Seventy-seven_. They're not _that_ far from here. Imagine what we could find there!"

The man's arm shot forward like a striking cobra, grabbing my wrist and pulling me nearly across the tabletop. The people eating at the Inn stopped whatever it was that they were doing and stared across the room at us, some with their forks half raised to their mouths. The masked man held my _Pip-Boy_ close to his face, scrutinizing the miniature region map, the glowing blue (the _Pip-Boy_ had multiple color preferences) screen reflected on his visor and easily readable from my end. I was in shock really and did not retaliate or attempt to free myself from his tight grasp. Finally, after a long moment, the man released me and I fell back across the table and into my chair, tipping perilously before coming to a rest on all four legs. I looked back across the table but the man was already gone, heading up the staircase and to his room with his rifle slung across his shoulder.

"What... hey! HEY!" I bolted from my seat and up the stairs after the man, following him into his room where he was already packing his things. "What's wrong? What are you doing?"

The masked man said nothing. He reached into his rucksack – one that he had acquired sometime after disappearing – and took hold of the .45 magnum. He stared at it for a moment before turning his head to face me.

I blushed slightly. "I kept it," I said, my voice growing low. "But you should have it back. It's yours after all." The man extended his arm, pointing the revolver at my chest, grip first. He motioned his head, indicating that I should take it. I refused. "No. It's yours. I'm not even that good with it." The man pressed further and I relented, taking the weapon gently in my hand. I stared down at it, seeing a muted reflection in its tempered steel. "Thanks."

The man nodded, and then grabbed his rucksack and left, pushing past me and down the steps.

"Wait! Come back!" I followed him down the steps, through the small Inn eatery – noting that every eye was trained on us – and out into the sunlit street. A few residents going about their work along the main road looked our way, but generally ignored us. "Are you leaving?"

The masked man nodded once, not turning back to face me.

"Then I'm coming with you!"

The man stopped, as did I. He turned to face me, the intent of his hard gaze lost to all but him. For several seconds we stood like this, my breath held as my own reflection gazed out from across the dusty road. The man lowered his head and turned away, continuing on with his determined march.

I raced after him. "I said I'm coming with you!"

The man said nothing and kept walking.

I reached out and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He came to a sudden stop, and for another long moment, like one from a distant memory, we stood connected under the light of the sun. My voice was distant, cracking with the strain to hold back a new onrush of tears that threatened to overflow. "I'm not losing you. Not again. I don't want to be alone."

The masked man said nothing. After what felt like eternity, he nodded.

"Thank you." I released him and stepped back. He turned, his gaze softer than it had once been, and then looked over to _Gordian's_. He didn't need words for me to understand what he was saying. "Yeah. I'll go and get my things."

Music could be heard playing from inside the bar, which was not unusual if the rustic jukebox that Ronald kept for show happened to be willing to work. I pushed open the main door and was immediately hit with a wall of deafening sound.

"_I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame, in your heart._"

I clamped my hands over my ears, pushing through the thick throng of people that should not be here and towards Ronald. He was in his usual spot behind the counter, washing the mugs to no avail. "Ronald! What the fu... hell is going on!"

Ronald shrugged. "Someone wanted to throw a party."

I could barely hear Ronald over the sound of the music and chatter. "And you let them? That doesn't sound like you!"

Ronald set aside one mug for another. "Figured it would be good for business."

I was about to say something more – possibly about Ronald doing anything to make an extra cap or two – when a hand came down hard from behind, smacking me squarely between the shoulder blades. I yelped in surprise/pain and quickly spun to face my accoster, my revolver already out in my hand and aimed.

A few people spotted the weapon and shuffled away, though the majority either were unfazed by my gun-toting antics or were too inebriated to care. The drunk man, to whom my gun was now pointed directly at, shot his hands high into the air. "Easy there. Don't wanna shoot ya number one fan now, do ya?"

I pulled back the revolver's hammer with my thumb. The man shrunk back a bit. "I think I would very much like to shoot you," I growled with acid laden words. I turned my head to face Ronald, though my eyes never left the drunk man. "Why do you allow such perverted pedophiliacs in through your door?"

The drunk man, a local resident, stepped forward, waving a finger. "Whoa. Now wait just a goddamn minute. That was a complete and total accident and ya know it. And second, could ya please stop calling me that? People ain't looking me in the eye anymore."

Ronald snorted and added simply, "No one looked you in the eye, Drew, because they were afraid to catch a case of the stupid."

"You call barging into the restroom while I'm on the toilet an _accident_?" I retorted sharply. "No, an _accident_ would be my finger _accidentally_ squeezing the trigger and _accidentally_ shooting you in the face, and maybe I'll _accidentally_ kick your corpse on the way out."

"Damn. Ya need to chill out."

"I've been a little emotional lately."

Drew sighed. "Look, I'll go and admit that I was probably just a little maybe tad bit drunk that night, but I swear that I only wanted your autograph. I mean, ya the fucking Angel of Death. _The_ fucking Angel of Death. Living in our town of all places! You're a legend out in the wastes. I would gladly worship the ground you walk upon, but i'm not the religious type so I figured I'd settle for ya autograph instead. I even through together this little shindig for ya."

"Great," I moaned. "Just what I need: pedophiles throwing me surprise parties."

"I told ya I'm not a pedophile. I don't even like kids: too noisy and always leaving little messes everywhere," explained Drew. "As for the party, consider it a token of the town's gratitude for all that ya done for us. Who else could've taken down those raiders? Or that albino radscorpion? Do I even need to bring up the radioactive housecat?"

"Please don't bring up the radioactive housecat," I mumbled, palming my face with my free hand.

"So relax; have fun. Even the Angel of Death needs a breather every once in a..." A hand came down on Drew's shoulder. He turned his head only to see himself staring back.

It was then that I remembered the gun still held aloft in my hand. I slid the weapon back into my coat and told the masked man that Drew was more of an idiot than a threat.

Drew, proving his intelligence, nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Me and the Angel of Death were just having a chitchat, new guy."

The masked man looked my way and tilted his head in a quizzical way.

"Pen name," I explained. "Tell you later."

I went to get my things but it wasn't that easy. True that I had relatively little and that most of what I owned was already packed away in my rucksack, but this party was being thrown for me after all, and the partiers weren't about to just let me up and leave. And so I was forced to mingle as the _Ink Spots_ and the _Bob Cats _sung away on the jukebox and those that could (i.e., everyone that was not me) downed bottle after bottle of booze from the bar.

The masked man, who had been eager to leave town, waited for me in a corner booth, taking the time to continue repairs on his hunting rifle as I was passed around like a social hot potato. Some wanted to get to know me, others wanted to _get to know_ me. It wasn't my first time being hit on, though who would be interested in someone like me? Sure I was _old enough_, but I was small and petite to the point of looking much younger than I actually was – I'm pretty sure malnutrition played a role in that development. My only thought was that I met the main requirement which was to be female, and while I normally would scorn those who viewed me as some sex object it was expected that I be polite in this setting, so all I could do was smile and act as if I wasn't interested.

I truly wasn't.

I despised men (most of them at least), and women didn't fare much better. My only desire was to be alone with the only family that I had left, and even though we were not related by blood, _he_ was the closest that I would ever have.

My gaze shifted to the corner, where the masked man busied himself with his rifle. He didn't notice me, but that was okay. Just him being there, in my proximity, was enough. Just the thought of never being alone again...

I smiled, and a feeling of happiness that I had not felt in so long coursed through every fiber of my body. No doubt that I would not be leaving anytime soon, so I might as well follow Drew's advice and enjoy myself.

Darkness had long come to the world. The party was, more or less, over. Many had gone home for the night, though a few stragglers who had not passed out remained, downing beer with a grim determination. The bar was a mess, but the pile of caps Ronald had amassed had made it worth the inconvenience.

I, needing fresh air, slid out unnoticed and into the cool night. A nearby car offered me a seat and I stared up into the cloudless sky, the vast number of uncountable stars surrounding a mostly full disc of a moon that hung high above my head like a stellar chandelier. A small bloatfly hummed nearby, scavenging the garbage piles for the rancid meats they enjoyed so much. I shooed it away when I ventured too close. It buzzed angrily but left peacefully.

The masked man stood beside me, looking first at me and then to the heavens above.

"The Angle of Death," I muttered, noticing a blinking star. A satellite from an age long gone.

The masked man looked down upon me.

"I had no purpose to live. I had lost everything. My home. My family. When I lost you, I nearly gave up. But I didn't. After you_ died_, I wandered the desert. I had no purpose. No direction. Only survival mattered.

"I killed a man not long afterwards. I should have broken down, but I felt nothing as he died. As the life left his eyes. It was then that I found my calling. Maybe I wanted to help those who were weak like myself or maybe hatred led my actions, but I began hunting raiders. I nearly died many times, but each near death made me stronger. I learned from my mistakes; grew more confident in my skills. I lived to kill, and killed to live.

"The rumor of a young girl, a spirit seeking justice, spread like wildfire throughout the region, though few took the myth as fact. It wasn't until the death of Lucifer and his gang that the _Angle of Death_ was born." A small laugh escaped my lips. "That was an odd day, but afterwards every raider feared the newly created legend. They feared me, but not me. The Angel of Death is just a name, and though I created the myth the Angel of Death could be anyone.

"Maybe it's best that way. It still reminds me that I'm just a girl. A girl named Alice who has lost everything and has nothing."

A tear trickled down my cheek. The masked man reach out a gloved hand and wiped away the tear with as much tenderness as my father. I smiled.

I jumped down from the car. "Let's go. I don't want to see this place anymore."


	7. CHAPTER VII

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. Saying I've been busy would be an understatement. Anyway, here is Chapter 7. Originally part of what is planed to be a long chapter, figured it would be best to get something published until the rest is finished. I will attempt to get it finished within the next couple of weeks, but college and a job leaves me little free time. Anyway, enjoy.**

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><p>My icy blue eyes stared into the crackling fire, transfixed by the meager flames that danced and pirouetted around one another towards the inky night sky above before dissipating away into nothingness. Slats of dry lumber blackened into ash, fueling the burn. A welcomed warmth radiated from the fire; invisible smoke tainted the air around me with a not unpleasant scent. Small bits of brahmin meat roasted over the flickering flames, my stomach growling in displeasure as the morsels slowly cooked.<p>

We, the masked man and I, had left town the night before, traveling north along _I-57_ before reaching _I-70_. The setting sun to our backs, we continued onward long after the sky had grown dark. It was only by my complaint that we stopped for the night. The man, if given the choice, would have continued until sunrise and then some. I, however, did not have unlimited stores of energy.

Yawning, I fell back atop my tattered sleeping mat – an oversized rag really – and stretched out my weary limbs like some old world feline. My arms folded behind my head, I gazed up at the chalky moon and its adjutant of accompanying stars – some bright and others muted, and one that blinked on and off to a dull rhythm. Many nights during my travels had been spent with my eyes trained skyward, towards a celestial ceiling that stretched on to infinity. I would lose myself to the night, and a feeling of insignificance would wash over me.

Every time I would be reminded of just how alone I was in this world.

I turned my gaze so that I looked out across the cold Midwestern desert, to the lonely row of abandoned homes that sat further down the highway. To where the masked man had gone. He had left some time earlier to explore the sad little collection of buildings, leaving me behind to tend to camp. Initially upset at being left behind to cook dinner (more or less), I was more than grateful to get off of my feet and relax after a tiring day spent traveling the broken highways.

A contented sigh left my mouth as I found comfort in the warmth situated between the cold desert and the burning fire. My eyes returned to the moon and its distant friends, and a small smile curled my dry lips.

I wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Sleep came unexpectedly. Memories played out as dreams like a movie reel inside my head, giving me a glimpse of a life that I no longer lived. A glimpse of faces that survived only in my mind's eye. My father read from one of his many books after a day spent hunting out in the wastes; my mother cooked dinner, slicing vegetables and bits of meat into a hearty stew. My six year old self played with a turnip, tossing it up like a ball before my mother took it and added it to the stew.

Then there was blood. It reached out for me, seeping under the bed where I hid in fear. My mother stared out to me, her eyes cold and unseeing as she lay still on the wooden floorboards, her neck sliced through by a jagged knife.

My eyes shot open. The masked man stood over me, the sky still dark behind him. His gaze met mine, and even though I could not see his face, I knew that he was worried. I waved off his concern and rolled into a sitting position atop my mat, doing my best to bury down the memories that still lingered on in my head.

A repugnant smell smell filled my nostrils, as if something was burning. I quickly looked over to the fire, my past completely forgotten in favor of the present. The brahmin meat, my dinner, was nothing more than black coals roasting over an open flame. I ripped them from the fire but the damage had already been done.

"My dinner...," I muttered in despair, overwhelmed by a feeling of deep loss. The shriveled pieces of food clung to the metal poker. My stomach growled in protest, all too aware that dinner would not be had tonight. Food, a basic necessity, had been overlooked during our departure from town. The brahmin meat was all that the masked man had, and I had gone and burned it to a crisp.

The masked man shook his head and reached into his rucksack, removing a fresh red apple. He tossed it to me and I almost dropped it into the fire. My thumb rubbed against the thin skin of the fruit. It was faint, but I could detect the smell of gunpowder emanating from the man's hunting rifle. It had been fired recently. Something had happened, and this apple was his reward.

I decided not to think too much about it and bit into the fruit, allowing the delightful flavor to wash over my tastebuds. Fruit was hard to cultivate in the Wasteland, and juicy apples such as this were always a rare treat. I offered some to the masked man, but he shook his head. He never seemed to eat, or at least never in front of me.

"What else did you find?" I asked, swallowing the last bit of the apple's white flesh and tossing the core into the fire.

The masked man laid out what he had found. There wasn't much of importance: a few burned books, a crisp dollar bill, an old computer hard drive, several torn magazines, and a thick glassed bottle filled with a clear liquid. I took the bottle and popped the top off, sniffing the contents.

"Alcohol? You actually stumbled across some poor bastard's liquor cabinet didn't you?"

The masked man said nothing.

I ignored him and raised the bottle to my lips. The man reached forward and took the bottle from me. I snatched it back. "Not you too. Look, I already had this conversation with Ronald. Not like a little drink is gonna hurt me." I took a swig of liquor and gagged. "Oh God, that's horrible."

The masked man raised a hand to where his mouth would be, as if suppressing a laugh.

"Shut it!" I snapped, raised the bottle as if to throw it.

The man raised his hands in surrender and I laughed.

We talked for a bit afterwards (I talked and he listened), and then I turned in for the night. The man was still awake, tending to the fire, as I closed my eyes. Sleep came soon afterwards. My dreams that night were not of distant memories, but of me wandering the desert that had become my home. That had always been my home.

Though this time, I did not travel alone.


	8. CHAPTER VIII

**A/N: Long time no see, my loyal fans. Let me apologize for taking so long. School and work kept me busy for awhile, but here it is. Chapter 8 of WASTELAND part II. Good things come to those who wait, and hopefully this won't be an exception.**

**On another note, I am unsatisfied with Chapter 4 and will be rewriting it sometime in the future. Feel free to read the revised chapter if you want once it is uploaded - no known time as to when that will be.**

**Final note, leave me a review. I like knowing that people actually read this. That's all I have to say. Enjoy the story.**

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><p>"Hey. Hey! Wake up!"<p>

I groggily forced my eyes open and was momentarily blinded by the early morning light from the still rising sun. A dull pair of brown eyes stared down into my own from above. I screamed, kicking back the assailant and reaching for the revolver stowed away inside my coat. My finger looped around the trigger, but I hesitated at the sight of an all too familiar face.

"Is that anyway to greet me?" asked Drew, brushing the clinging sand from his pants as he stood. "I come all this way to find ya and ya kick me in the gut. Damn."

I pressed the tip of my revolver against his head. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Whoa now," uttered Drew, his hands raised in caution. "Ya two just up and disappeared so Marge sent me to find ya, seeing as how ya didn't say goodbye or some shit."

"And why did she have to send you of all people? The last thing I need is some pervert stalking me across the desert," I groaned, lowered my weapon. My gaze shifted over to the masked man, who was wide awake and packing his gear. I mouthed a swear in his general direction for being so indifferent.

"I used to live out here for a long time," answered Drew with an air of pride. "I know the ins and outs of not becoming a deathclaw's chew toy, or being sodomized by some fucking raider. Those bastards that call _Gordian's_ home wouldn't last two seconds out here."

A sigh escaped my dry lips. "Just tell me what Marge wants."

Drew slid off a frayed backpack slung across his shoulders and tossed it to me. It was packed full of supplies, many of which we had failed to pack ourselves during our departure. "A goodbye gift from Marge... I think. I don't know who packed the damn thing. I was just told to deliver it."

I removed a plump Mutfruit (my breakfast for today) and tossed the bag to the masked man, who gave it a cursory search. I bit into the bitter fruit, swallowing a mouthful of the juicy flesh. "Tell Marge thanks."

"Tell the old bat ya-self. I ain't going back to that lame ass town now that I'm back out into the world. Time for me to move on; find a new roost. Ya know what I'm saying?"

"Uh-huh. Well, have fun with that. I'll send Marge a postcard or something from Indy." I looked over to the masked man. "You ready?"

He nodded, sliding his now full rucksack across his shoulder.

I quickly scooped up my few belongings, gave a small wave to Drew, and set off down the dusty highway with the masked man. We walked side by side with the masked man just a few steps ahead, the brim of my hat pulled low to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight. The rest had been well needed, but I was eager to be on the move once again.

"Where y'all going again?" asked Drew, matching our pace.

"Why the hell are you following us?" I growled back to our unwelcomed shadow.

I'm not following ya. I just so happen to be going in the same direction," defended Drew. "But seeing as how we're going the same way we might as well enjoy each other's company. Ya could even sign that autograph ya promised me."

"I never promised that."

"Sign it anyway?"

"Fuck off."

"Damn, girl. Why ya gotta be so hostile?"

The temptation to simply shoot him and be done with it flared up inside of me, but the masked man shook his head as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. I was the _good_ guy and shooting Drew, no matter how annoying he was, would be a _bad_ thing. I sighed. Drew wouldn't gave been worth the bullet anyway.

And so we remained followed by an idiot.

The trek along _I-70_ was uneventful at best. The sun moved slowly on its arc across the forever blue sky above, reaching its apogee sometime after noon; vultures circled hungrily far off in the distance, their wings spread to catch the high altitude currents of air. Drew kept to himself for the most part but, for the life of him, could not keep his mouth shut. A stream of moronic idiocies driveled from his mouth, and again I was tempted to forgo my good ways just so I could have some peace and quiet. Drew must have sensed my ill intentions because he quieted down shortly afterwards, much to my relief.

The remainder of the day was spent in relative silence, with the occasional sporadic comment by Drew every now and then. Night had fallen when we decided to stop and make camp. The masked man was able to start a small fire while I scrounged around through his rucksack for some dinner. Even though I really didn't want to, I fed Drew as well.

"Doesn't he eat?" asked Drew after our modest meal, finding a comfortable spot atop the densely packed sand within the flickering circle of light.

"He's on a diet," I answered sarcastically, laying my bedding near the burning fire. I shot Drew a sudden and harsh look from across the flames. "You better not do anything to me while I'm asleep. Otherwise they'll never find your body."  
>"No need to worry," assured Drew. He turned his back to me and went to sleep.<p>

Morning came and we continued on along _I-70_. We ran into a small caravan around midday and traded what we could for some extra supplies: ammo, spare rifle parts, etc. A quick lunch followed, and then several more hours of walking. Road signs counted down the miles until the next city: another day or so until we arrived.

"Are we there yet?" asked Drew, taking a long swig from his plastic water bottle.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him the best that I could.

"How much longer then?" he pressed.

I told him that I had no idea and that he should be quiet.

Drew hummed to himself a song of his own creation for several short minutes before asking, "Why are there so many cars on the highway? I know they're abandoned, but shouldn't someone clean this damn mess up?"

I shook my head. The masked man briefly glanced my way and shrugged.

"What about the clouds? There aren't any. We could use some fucking cloud cover."

I shot Drew a look of animosity and earned myself a few minutes of silence.

"My feet hurt. Can we take a break? Look, there's a rest stop right over there."

"Will you shut up!" I snapped, my patience for this idiot rapidly falling.

"Hey. I just want a little break, that's all."

"And I don't care."

"Well excuse me miss high and mighty Angel of Death wanderer, but it's been a few years since I did any serious traveling. Need to get back in the groove. Get myself some new walking shoes. Until then, I think I deserve a rest every now and then."

I rounded on him, my ability to tolerate his presence more or less having reached zero. "What makes you think that you deserve anything? Ever since I set foot into that town you've been nothing but a pain in my ass, you drunk pedophilic ignoramus."

Drew stood his ground, his eyes meeting mine in a stark gaze. "Ya know, I used to think ya were some hero, but I guess I was wrong this whole time. Ya just a conceited bitch just like the rest of those bastards who say they're out to do good."

The revolver was in my hand before I even knew it. Drew stared down the barrel, obviously resisting the urge to dive for cover. The masked man waved his hands in an attempt to urge me to lower the weapon. I ignored him and instead pulled back the hammer with my thumb. The look of fear that filled Drew's eyes was almost gratifying.

"This isn't a very good week for me," I muttered. "So excuse me if I'm a bit moody, but I can only take so much before I..."

There was a sudden roar of distant thunder. Drew screamed and dove to the asphalt as I nearly dropped my magnum and fumbled to catch it. A fireball bloomed into existence out in the distance, flame and smoke stretching high before curling into an ominous mushroom. A lone speck of debris flew from the blast before raining back down upon us like a meteor, striking the sandy ground and bouncing several feet to land roughly against the prone Drew.

"What the hell is that?" I muttered, looking down at Drew and the metal that lay atop him.

The masked man shrugged.

"Don't just stand there! Get this damn thing off of me!" yelled Drew from the ground.

A sigh escaped me. I was tempted to leave him be but eventually, like a good person, hefted the heavy sphere of metal up off of his useless self.

Drew scrambled to his feet. "What the hell is that thing?"

I examined the thing that I held in my arms and hazarded a guess. "An eyebot... I think."

Drew poked at the damaged machine. "Where the fuck did it come from?"

I could only roll my eyes.

The masked man stared out towards the fading plume of black smoke. I knew exactly what he was thinking because it had crossed my mind as well. So I took charge. I pushed the nonfunctioning robot into the arms of Drew – much to his complaint – and led the march from the highway to where the explosion had occurred.

"Why are ya making me carry this thing? It's heavy," voiced Drew.

I shrugged. "It likes you."

A prewar tanker truck had been at the center of the explosion: its charred remains scattered around a freshly born crater. Flames still burned where they could, consuming what little fuel there was left to have. The actual cause of the explosion remained elusive, though the magnitude was easily identifiable with a glance.

Drew whistled at the sight of the carnage. "Look at this. Wasteland was bad enough without trucks exploding all over the place."

"What do you think happened?" I asked the masked man.

The man surveyed the destruction before suddenly pointing. I followed where his finger led. A lone car lay overturned several hundred feet away from the blast crater. Near it, unmoving in the sand, was a small form.

I rushed over to the person, expecting to find the worse. The boy, who was several years younger than myself, lay still near the wrecked car. I was no doctor by any means, but he seemed roughly intact – no burns or missing limbs – but even I knew the dangers of any explosion. Heat wasn't the only thing to kill. The shockwave alone could be lethal.

Drew stood over me, the damaged eyebot still in his arms. "Yo, is that kid dead?"

I ripped a glove off and placed a finger to the boy's neck. At my touch he stirred.

I sighed in relief. "He's alive. We need to..."

Someone scrambled over the car. A splintered baseball bat came swinging down at my head, but the attack was stopped in its tracks by the masked man who, with one hand, halted the swing. A tug pulled free the weapon from the small hands of the girl, no older than the boy, that stood before us.

"Give it back!" barked the girl, reaching up for the bat that was held just out of her reach by the masked man. She jumped as high as she could, her hand snatching air as the man moved the bat high over his head.

I grabbed the girl's arms and folded them behind her back, pinning her without actually hurting her. She immediately began thrashing about, attempting to break free as she kicked my shins with the back of her tennis shoes. I wrestled with her briefly and finally subdued her.

"Let me go," she growled in anger.

"We're not going to hurt you," I assured the girl in the calmest voice that I could muster.

"That's what they all say," muttered the girl.

"Trust me, I would have shot a brat like you already if I really wanted to do so." Drew nodded in agreement with this statement. "And besides, I think your friend could use some help."

The girl relented instantly. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Promise not to attack us?" The girl nodded slowly and I released her from my grasp. She went over to the injured boy. I founded the gaze of the masked man and tilted my head towards the young pair.

He nodded once.


	9. CHAPTER IX

**A/N: Sorry to all my readers. All summer spent taking summer classes and working left me little to no time to work on this let alone sleep. But I'm back now and with a new chapter. This chapter was originally going to be much longer but issues with the second half and my desire to post something after such a long hiatus made me decide to split the chapter. Expect great things soon, but I need a break at the moment.**

**Please review. Enjoy the story.**

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><p>"Can you fix him?" The boy stared out across the crackling fire, the flames dancing in his auburn eyes as he finished the last of the meal that I had scraped together. The girl sat close beside him, almost touching, quiet and eating little. The boy's injuries had been far from life threatening, though still she refused to stray from his side.<p>

The masked man said nothing as he dug around inside the damaged eyebot, his _Pip-Boy_ providing just enough light to see in the darkness. There was a brief spark of electricity as the man reconnected the frayed wiring to their circuit board, causing a small red light to blink to life from behind the machine's slatted "face" before dying once more. He disconnected the wire and tried again, seeming puzzled when that failed to produce a similar result.

I could _maybe_ fix a radio or a toaster if I really cared to try hard enough. Advanced robotics such as this, however, was completely above my head.

"He knows what he's doing," I reassured the kids, my mouth twisting into a lopsided grin. At least, I assumed that the man did – he could very well have no clue at all as to what he was doing, and yet still he would be more knowledgeable than me on the subject.

The boy seemed relieved at the bit of good news; the girl, on the other hand, remained indifferent. Her eye caught mine for the briefest of moments and quickly darted away, staring instead into the burning fire and doing her best to ignore my existence. She had been distant ever since we had found both her and the boy out in the wastes, as if troubled by something not readily apparent.

Generally, as a personal rule, I tended to care little for the emotional state of strangers, but there was something about children that made me feel different. Gentler. Maybe it was their naivete, a complete innocence in a world gone wrong, something of which I had lost long ago. Or could it be that this girl, in a way, so close in age as when I first ventured out into the wasteland, reminded me of myself. Whatever it may be, a sense of innocence or a reflection of my own self, I felt a rising compassion, if not outright pity, for this young girl; an almost motherly desire to comfort her like my parents, long since dead, had once done for me. But what could I possibly say to console her? I was a creature of action, not words. Speaking had never been my strongest point.

"My name's Alice," I stated lamely in an attempt to break the ice, hating myself for not being able to say something witty or worthwhile like the characters that I had once read about in my father's books.

The boy responded in an instant. "I'm Adam. And this is..."

"Cooper," interrupted the girl without looking up.

"Cooper? Isn't that a weird name for a girl?" I questioned.

"No weirder than a malnourished runt leading a faceless mute and a brainless idiot," insulted the girl, the inflections of her voice remaining flat.

"I'm still bigger than you," I mumbled – the sad truth being that I was, but not by much.

"And just who are ya calling an idiot?" chimed in Drew from where he sat at the fringe of firelight, coming to his own defense after overhearing a possible jibe directed at his intelligence or lack thereof.

"I'm confident enough to say that you're the brainless idiot, though I would have chosen a slightly different vocabulary," I told Drew with an edge of malice in my voice.

"Yeah? And what would ya have called me then?" he challenged.

"A mentally deficient jackass." It was brief, almost nonexistent, but I saw the slight smile that crossed the girl's placid face.

"Why ya gotta be so mean?" moaned Drew. "So I might have accidentally seen ya with ya pants down. That's no reason to hold a grudge until the world ends" – he thought for a moment – "again." He was about to say more but an icy glare quickly silenced him and his protest.

"Sorry about him. He was dropped on his head shortly after birth," I uttered with complete certainty, feeling that this was the only explanation for someone as dimwitted as he was.

"I take offense to that," he objected.

"And I don't care." Adam had been watching our little dialogue with some interest – no doubt wondering why two people so hostile towards one another would even consider traveling together – while Cooper continued to stare into the flames that danced before her as if bored. "That moronic waste of space is Drew. The quiet guy over there is... uh... well, you can just call him _guy_ or _hey you_ or something" – his name still eluded me after all this time. I looked over to the masked man, watching him tinker with the machine. "So, is the eyebot yours?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah. We found him back home. He seemed lost."

Cooper quietly added, "I hate the damn thing."

"Never knew a robot could get lost, but then again I haven't really had the chance to meet any that weren't scrap metal or rusted to nothing" – I had always assumed that they had some sort of built in GPS or the like. "Where's home at? There's no towns that I know of anywhere around here. Unless you're from Indy, but you two don't seem like urban dwellers."

The boy opened his mouth to answer but fell quiet as the girl purposely tipped and fell into him, her head coming to a rest in the crook of his neck and her sandy hair falling just over his slender shoulder. Their eyes met and some unspoken communication passed between them. Adam remained silent and allowed the question to hang unanswered in the night air, refusing to even look in my general direction.

A frown bent my mouth, my curiosity growing stronger. "Not gonna say, are you?"

"Does it matter where we're from?" Cooper asked, her voice low. "If it does, then where is home for you?"

I was on the verge of speaking but instead said nothing. Years had passed since I had left my home for the very last time. Nearly four years spent trying to forget a past I no longer wished to remember. The drab building that had been my childhood was lost to me. My former life, who I had once been and sought to be, was nothing more than a fading dream – or was it more akin to a nightmare.

"I don't know," I told them after a long while, a sadness filling me as the words left my mouth. I had no home and probably never would.

"How the hell do ya not know where ya from?" inquired Drew incredulously, his obnoxiousness ruining the sentiment of the moment. The despair that I had just felt was quickly replaced by an urge to kick my boot through his teeth, but he failed to sense my murderous intent because he kept on talking. "I have a better question for y'all. How the hell do ya manage to blow-up a truck?"

"Bot," sneered Cooper, a look of displeasure crossing her face. "Bloody idiot."

"Bot?" Drew looked over to where the masked man worked. "Ya mean the robot thing?"

"We found the truck by accident," explained Adam, "while looking for some water to drink. It was just sitting there and we, well, Cooper mostly, thought that maybe some water would have condensed inside or something. The tank was almost full but it wasn't water. Maybe gasoline. It had a weird smell. Anyway, we couldn't drink it so we decided to leave. That's when the ant crawled out from under the truck. It wasn't really big, maybe a foot or so, but Bot went after it before we could stop him."

"Boom," finished Cooper, using her hands to mimic an explosion.

"Wait. So ya mean to tell me that little robot thing blew-up a truck? That seems a little hard to believe," stated Drew as if he were an expert on how to explode tanker trucks.

"Fuel tends to do that when shot at with a laser," I spat.

Drew pointed an index finger towards the eyebot. "That little thing sticking out of it is a laser?"

"Yeah. They use it to shoot things."

"Man. I always assumed they were recording gizmos or something, like they were spying on us. Thought that was why the little fuckers always followed people around."

"Then you're an idiot." Drew looked as if he wanted to say something more but decided against it. "So why were you two wandering the desert alone in the first place? Not really the best place for kids."

Cooper slid down from Adam's shoulder before he could answer, making a pillow out of his lap and getting comfortable. Without thought the boy ran his fingers through the girl's messy hair, her eyes staring up pass him and to the dim stars that lined the sky above. Like the last time, he remained quiet.

I pressed on, my curiosity eager for something. "What about your parents?"

"Dead." Cooper's tone was cold and I knew that she would not say more than this.

I was silent for several seconds before saying, "Mine too." The girl's eyes, pools of blue water deeper than the ice of my own, met my gaze, and in the growing stillness we had a connection. Some shared trait that bridged the void between us. Still, the girl remained distant, though now seemed more approachable than before.

"My mama's down south gambling away all the caps I send her," stated Drew nonchalantly.

"Do I have to shoot you?" I threatened through clenched teeth.

"Please do," muttered Cooper.

Static filled the air as the masked man reconnected the final loose wire within the eyebot. The machine rebooted and the man backed away, allowing it to swirl erratically into the air before righting itself as its stabilizers came back online. The internal speakers were next to correct themselves, the buzzing static forming into a series of coherent _beeps_ and _clicks_.

"You're okay!" smiled Adam. The eyebot floated down so that it was level with his head and slowly circled around like an orbiting satellite. The lower set of protruding antennas – all of which pointed back at varying angles – scraped against the lounging girl, who muttered a curse at the oblivious machine.

Cooper suddenly picked herself up, stretching her arms high above her head and making a point to shove the eyebot away from her. She announced her intent on going to sleep and, more or less, ordered Adam to accompany her. Without so much as a desire to argue, he and the eyebot joined her at the edge of the campsite, well enough away from everyone else.

It had already grown late and sleep seemed like the best option for all of us. The masked man busied himself with sorting and packing inessential gear while Drew found a spot safely away from both me and the girl, who had already fallen asleep beside the boy with the eyebot hovering inattentively above. I wasted no time in making myself comfortable, choosing to lie near where the masked man had set his things, close to the fire.

It wasn't long until sleep came to me, but it was fleeting. Dreams of memories that I wished to remain buried played through my unconscious mind, and it wasn't long before I found myself lying awake in the darkness. The fire had nearly burnt itself out. A meager flame struggled to remain alive in the ashes. Drew snored loudly somewhere to my left, and I could sense the man's presence close by. On a whim, I turned towards where the boy and girl slept.

There was no trace that they had ever been there.

Surprise didn't come to me until after my mind had awaken a bit more. Yawning, I made my way over to where they had been, not fully sure what I was expecting to find. Not thinking, I stumbled out into the darkness, finding the battered road and continuing on towards Indy.

It wasn't long before I found them. I couldn't see far through the night, but sound carried well in the stillness that had settled across the desert. They were arguing, or would have been if the boy had been assertive enough to confront the girl.

I called out to them, making my presence known.

"What... what are you doing here?! Go away!" Cooper yelled back through the darkness.

"Where are you going?" I asked aloud, quickening my pace.

"None of your business! Go away! Leave us alone!"

"Maybe they could help us," stated Adam just loud enough to be heard.

"Help with what?" I asked, being close enough to just make out their silhouettes ahead of me.

"Nothing! Stop following us!" The girl tripped and fell. The boy immediately went to her aid. The eyebot whistled lowly and circled around.

I stood above them. "It's dangerous to travel at night. Come back to camp."

"No!" shouted the girl. "We don't need your help."

"You don't trust me?"

"She doesn't," answered Adam before Cooper could shout a reply. She glared at him as if willing him to be silent, but he ignored her and instead turned to face me. "She won't admit it, but we need help."

I nodded. "Sure. Whatever I can do."

Adam was quiet for a moment. He looked down to Cooper who had given up resisting and now remained still where she lay. Almost instinctively, he ran his fingers through her hair. "We were a family, the five of us, orphans from a pointless war. We relied on one another for survival. We were all we had. But then raiders attacked the town where we lived, and the slavers found us. Me and Cooper were able to get away, but the others..." His fingers traveled down to the girl's face and wiped away a stray tear. "No one in town would help us, se we left on our own."

"Did you have a plan if you found them?" I asked.

Adam shook his. "To be honest, we would probably be killed."

"Probably," I said in agreement, pulling the girl up to her feet. She refused to meet my gaze, as if her pride prevented her from doing so. I smiled. "I'm always up for downing a few raiders. You could say it's a specialty of mine. But tonight we should get some rest. Sound okay?"

The girl remained quiet, but eventually nodded.


	10. CHAPTER X

**A/N: Good news everybody. I'm not dead. If you didn't know I'm in college and have been extremely busy for the last few months with little time to sleep let alone write. But I'm back for now. If I disappear again understand that I'm probably busy with school.**

**This story and every story I write from here on out will be dedicated to my mother.  
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**Enjoy the story.**

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><p>The cratered moon sank low, its nearly full form fading so that all that remained was a ghost in the cloudless sky. Night soon became day, and the sun, reaching for its place as master of the heavens, brought with it a terrible heat that scorched the irradiated dunes and the barren highways. A heat that made travel difficult, if not dangerous.<p>

Out supply of water, originally meant for two, had quickly disappeared. Little remained for the duration of the coming day, and if not rationed properly the meager supply would be gone by evening if not sooner.

Fortune, however, smiled upon us. Our destination was not far, and by midday the city could be seen far to the east. Towers of steel and concrete and glass, having once withstood the final bombs of war and then the lonely years that followed, stood tall like beacons in the vast wastes. A map marker for a promised oasis.

"We're here!" proclaimed Adam the moment that we crossed over into the city boundaries, an excitement not usual of his timid demeanor overcoming him. He took hold of the girl by her thin shoulders and rocked her back and forth. Bot circled happily above.

The girl, neither opposed nor enjoying her companion's antics, remained rather blank, as if she were a book whose pages had yet to be written. I studied her face briefly and without being noticed, catching sight of the apprehension that surrounded her like an ill-fitting cloak. Her sharp eyes were alert; her movements tense. She was afraid, yet far to proud to ever admit it.

The rural freeway that we had dutifully followed since leaving town now grew in size, widening as it cut a path of least resistance through densely packed neighborhoods - that may have once thrived in a different era - and twisted closer to the city's heart. More and more cars packed the roadway the farther we went, many of which having been abandoned while attempting to leave the city. Nearly all had been picked clean by scavengers; others were used for target practice.

An overpass spanning the highway had collapsed ahead of us, crushing anything unfortunate enough to have been caught underneath at the time and effectively ending the eight lane expressway. With little choice, we followed an exit ramp down to the shattered streets below, leaping over ruptures in the asphalt and potholes as large as well fed brahmin. The road we found ourselves on was just as ruined but led unobstructed into the dead metropolis.

Drew quietly observed our surroundings, looking from one ruined storefront to another. "So this is Indy? Not much to look at."

The decaying neighborhoods - lacking any significant resources to be of value - had instead become little more than squatter havens. Vagrants, unable to make a living within the city, had instead come here to eke out a miserable existence. Others, pass the point of exhaustion, both physically and mentally, had come here to die. Beggars approached us as we passed, asking for food or water or caps. Some watched with ill intent in their eyes, an animalistic hunger that had beat down their humanity so that redemption was all but impossible.

Needless to say, my weapon was never too far from my reach.

"This place is a shit-hole," continued Drew, pushing aside an ailing man who had come to beg for food. "Ya sure this is the right place? What right-minded would come here?"

"Guessing this is your first time being here," I assumed.

A ragged man with all the characteristics of a yao guai ducked into cover upon seeing us approach, disappearing inside an old barbershop whose windows had been boarded up. I reached into my jacket and slid a hand around the grip of my revolver, my index finger looping through the trigger guard. The masked man noticed the movement and followed my gaze to where the yao guai man had just been.

We passed by the building without incident. Still, I remained alert.

"What of it?" Drew spat.

"There's a lot more to this city beside squatters," I told him, lowering my arm.

"Then how about a tour since ya obviously know more than I do. Any decent restaurants nearby? A bar or two would be nice as well." Drew clapped his hands together. "Sightseeing! Gotta be some cool things to see in a city. Should have brought my damn camera."

"Your sarcasm is impeccable," I muttered, resisting the urge to violently kick him. "Just don't piss off the wrong people and maybe you won't be shot."

"Shot? I'm more afraid of catching tetanus that taking a bullet in my ass. Look at this place! It's a fucking hellhole! Just a bunch of bums waiting to die. That guy over there _is_ dead!" exclaimed Drew, pointing to where a man had expired along the side of the road.

Adam looked away, but Cooper glanced with morbid curiosity.

"We haven't even made it to the circle yet. Wait until we reach downtown," I told him.

"And downtown is gonna be _so_ much better. Let me guess: more food than ya can even imagine, water as clean as can be, and enough booze and whores to satisfy all the men in the region. Sounds like a fucking wonderland."

"Judge for yourself. We're almost to the river now."

"There's a river?" asked Adam, an edge of excitement to his voice.

I nodded. "Yeah. Have you ever seen one?"

Cooper answered. "The town was built over an aquifer. Ground water."

I was sincere when I said, "That sounds useful."

Before his death, my father would travel twice or even three times a week to a nearby river, using an old cart to haul the plastic jugs that he and my mother had collected over the years. It was a ritual necessary to our survival. A chore that, while not difficult, was time consuming.

Once, when I was young, I had gone with my father to the river. The water, so much in one place, had left me in awe, my juvenile mind unable to fully comprehend the vast amount that stretched far off to the horizon in either direction. I remember my father filling the plastic containers while I stood at the river's edge, barefoot in the cool water with the opposite shore too distant to be seen by my eyes.

I never saw that river again.

"I guess it was," thought Cooper aloud.

The masked man tapped my shoulder and motioned with his head that I should look back behind us. I did. Trailing us, without even attempting to be subtle, was the yao guai man. Worse still, he had been joined by a small mob of other like minded vagrants. A murderous procession that was more animal that human.

"We're almost to the checkpoint," I told the masked man. "Just stay on guard." Vagrants whose minds had gone mad were far from threatening. Still, they were unpredictable.

The masked man glanced my way but eventually nodded.

The shanty town soon fell away as the uneven road inched closer to the city center, crossing through a desolate area that may have once been a park of sorts that ran along the river. The river itself lay ahead, its waters dark and muddy and no doubt contaminated with the fallout of atomic war.

A checkpoint blocked the road, denying access to one of the few remaining bridges that crossed the river. On guard were several men wearing mended combat armor that was more threatening in appearance than damage resistant. A large hound dog lay near the men, panting heavily in the heat. Above, hanging from the steel beams of the bridge, was a flag marked with the symbol of the city: a hollowed circle with a smaller dot resting in the center.

The guards saw us and halted their card game. They spoke briefly amongst themselves before one stood and walked our way. He carried with him an assault rifle that seemed to be in better condition than his armor. His eyes were hard, if not bored. "The Disciples welcome you to Indy. Abide the law and enjoy your stay."

I nodded to show that I understood and we were allowed to cross.

The vagrants that had hungrily stalked us through town now came to a halt, most confused and some panicking. The city guard raised his rifle and, without a word, challenged them to step forward. None did. Finding better judgment, they retreated along with the yao guai man. Lowering his weapon, the guard returned to the card game with a disappointed sigh.

Adam slid under the rusted railing that separated the street from the pedestrian walkway. He was joined by Cooper and together they stared out across the river, looking first to the distant horizon and then down to the dark waters below.

"Who the hell are the Disciples," asked Drew as we crossed the bridge.

"They own the city," I answered.

We now truly entered the city. The roads had been cleared of any unsightly debris and were maintained regularly be a dedicated workforce. Buildings had been restored to a livable condition, and vegetable gardens grew wherever they could. People who did not have to beg for their next meal went about their day, tending to plants or hurrying from one place to another. Some, wastelander tourist, marveled at the towers that reached incalculable heights. Others, city guards, maintained the peace.

"The Disciples rebuilt this city," I added. "Raiders who saw it more lucrative to be rulers rather than plunderers. Their determination paid off. Indy is now the largest settlement within a hundred miles, but it's leaders are still raiders at heart. Greed controls this place. Everything is for sale: drugs, weapons, people."

"Are they really here?" asked Cooper in a low voice.

"Every slaver and slave owner in the region comes here. Dozens of people are sold off like cattle on any given week. It makes sense to bring them here."

"You really know a lot about this," stated Adam.

I shrugged. "I've been here before. Made sense to learn about the city and its rulers." I checked the time and date on my _Pip-Boy_. "They have auctions every week. Same time and place. The next one is soon."

I led the others deeper into the city, the streets coming to life the closer we came to the downtown center. Open-air markets filled entire city blocks, the merchants shouting above the noise of the bustling crowd for any who passed to buy their wares. Children weaved in and out of legs and down alleyways in hectic games of tag. Guards singled out and threatened would-be troublemakers. Everywhere was engulfed in methodical chaos.

We headed south down a major road that bisected the city, towards what had once been the industrial district and still was by some extent. Its warehouses and factories had become the center of the Disciple slave trade and weapons manufacturing. Potential buyers marched in droves to where the selling would take place, seeking reliable firepower or cheap labor. All were welcomed to attend. We did not attract attention.

"Look at all the people," stated Adam in amazement, pressed close to the girl as everyone around us jostled for a better position near where the slaves would be sold. "I've never seen this many people in one place before."

"Imagine it before the war," I told him, standing on the tips of my toes just so I could see the platform where the "merchandise" would be displayed. "A city this size could easily have a million people or more. And there are bigger cities than this."

"That's a lot of people," muttered Cooper with little interest. The eyebot whistled as if in agreement, though likely only wanted to make itself noticed.

An older man whose thinning hair had long ago grayed took to the stage, his moth eaten tweed suit seeming to glow under the bright sunlight. He used a megaphone to project his voice so that even the farthest of onlookers could hear him. Most of what he said dealt with today's auction: rules, payment, etc.

Drew leaned in close to me so that I could more easily hear him. "So what's the plan gonna be? Storm the stage?"

"Not even Captain Cosmos would survive that." I shook my head. "Too many guards for a direct approach. Maybe we could buy them?"

The auction began. An old woman was led onto the stage by a Disciple guard. She was modestly dressed and didn't seem entirely displeased to be there. Maybe a bit annoyed if anything. The man in the tweed suit, the auctioneer, gave a quick overview of the woman - apparently she was the best indentured cook this side of the Ohio River - and began the bidding. A few halfhearted offers later and the price for the woman neared almost four hundred caps before selling.

A scowl had come to Drew's face by the time the elderly woman had stepped down from the stage. "Hope ya got a nice allowance this week because no way in hell can we afford them. Four hundred caps for an old hag!? Don't wanna even think what two kids will fetch."

My finger scratched absently at my neck. "I was kind of hoping that... maybe you would have some spare caps."

"Now why would ya go and think something stupid like that?"

Adam solemnly added, "We don't have anything either."

"Dirt poor," threw in Cooper.

The eyebot _beeped_ lowly.

We all looked to the masked man. He shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he had nothing or nowhere near enough to buy the freedom of three children - which was as good as nothing.

"What are we going to do?" asked the boy in despair. The girl said nothing, but it was clear that she felt the same if not worse.

"I'll think of something," I assured them. "I always do."

"Like that time with the radioactive...," began Drew.

I stopped him before he could continue. "Please don't bring that up again. I still have nightmares."

The suited man announced the next auction. A slender teen - making up for his lack of physical strength with pure intellect - sold for over a thousand caps, his buyer being a venerable man interested in acquiring a mental companion rather than a laborer. Taking the stage after him was a frightened young woman and her newborn child. A bidding war erupted between two high rollers and ended with the final price well pass three thousand caps.

Drew whistled as if in awe. "That's a lot of caps."

"A lot of something we don't have," I murmured. "Wish we did. Would make things so much easier."

"Are things ever easy?"

"No, not really."

Time moved slow as the auction continued. Seconds felt like minutes; minutes felt like hours. Person after person was led onstage and sold like livestock at a fair. To some it was an investment that required careful appraisal; to others a sick thrill; for onlookers cheap entertainment. To me it was sickening. Slavery, an abomination of the human condition, thrived in the wasteland where few societies existed to oppose it. Worse still was knowing that there was nothing I could do to help these people other than to wish for them the best.

Some would, if lucky, find happiness in their lives. The slender teen would no doubt fair well alongside the aging man whose heart was as dark as the sun. Others, the unfortunate, would face only a nightmarish hell where death, in lieu of freedom, would be greatly accepted. I could not help but to think of the young mother and child. They would suffer tremendously if only for the fact that insatiable human greed brought no good.

A dumpy looking man who seemed very close to the point of unconsciousness was led offstage to where his buyer awaited. The auctioneer stepped forward to take his place so that he stood at the edge of the sunbaked platform, the megaphone once again raised to his thin lips. His voice roared over the yammering crowd. "The final sale of today is a last minute addition fresh in this morning!" he announced. "Something I'm sure you fine folks will enjoy."

Two children were led onto the splintered stage by a Disciple guard. One was dragged along by the disgruntled man, struggling and yelling as she went while the other walked peacefully where directed.

"That's them!" yelped Cooper, trying and failing to remain composed. I knew that she wanted to cry out in relief, yet I also knew that she was far too proud to allow that of herself. She had created the facade of a strong-willed leader which had, without any reason for me to doubt, kept her and her friends alive in the wasteland, but deep down she still a child at heart. The weight of her world was placed on her shoulders. She was the central pillar.

But cracks were starting to appear.

"Where's Hunter?" she stammered, a subtle panic in her voice.

"Untie me this damn instant!" roared the visibly upset girl, struggling to no avail to free herself from the frayed rope that tightly bound her hands and feet as she was presented before the crowd that would soon be vying for her life.

The second girl shook her head in exasperation. "Will you please stop yelling. It's not doing much other than giving me a headache," she muttered, readjusting her thick-rimmed glasses with a free hand. Unlike her friend violent friend, the bespectacled girl had saw little reason to resist her captors and, as such, had not been restrained.

The taller friend took pause from her death threats to glare down at her friend, her raven colored hair - cut short more for ease than for style - bobbing listlessly with her movement. "Are you okay with this?" she asked harshly, incredulous to her friend's lack of concern.

The bespectacled friend simply shrugged. "What else can we do at this point."

The auctioneer approached the duo and bent down so that he was nearly eye level with the raven haired girl. "Well aren't you an adorable little belligerent." He squeezed her cheek like any grandfather would have done and nearly lost a finger as the girl snapped ferociously at him. He turned to face the crowd, his megaphone raised. "Hostile thing, ain't she folks! Tell you great people what, buy one and I'll throw in the other free of charge! Two for the price of one! So, do we have any takers?"

The bid was immediately met, followed by a second and then a third. A fourth doubled and a fifth took it even higher. The raven haired girl yelled curse after curse at her would be buyers as her friend stood quietly beside her.

Children were prized and often sold high at auction. They were easy to break into servitude, prone to suffering from Stockholm syndrome, and could endure long years of hard work and physical and mental abuse. Of course, some would be bought as if they were nothing more than extravagant toys, to be used and discarded at will.

"Sold!" announced the tweed suited auctioneer vehemently as the final bid was cast. The amount was actually quite modest all things considered, but to those of lower class and income it was astronomical.

"Damn that's a lot of caps," commented Drew. His eyes looked my way. "Any plans yet?"

My mind raced with endless possibilities, many of which never quite seemed to produce a viable solution while a few were little more than flights of fancy. Strategizing ahead of time had never been something that I excelled at. I was more suited to making spur of the moment decisions. Instinct often led my actions, but now I had to account for the others.

Too much was at stake for me to simply rely on my gut.

The buyer, a graying man with a stark look of firm power and control, approached the stage to complete the transaction. Flanking him was a tired Disciple guard, staying back so as not to be an obtrusion but remaining close enough to create a menacing presence.

The caps were taken and the "items" handed over. "Thank you for your purchase, Mr. Culver. Enjoy the little devils," added the suited auctioneer with a smile.

"No. Thank you," replied Culver, his voice crawling from his mouth like a snake.

The two girls were led away by the guard, the taller of the pair shouting violently as she went.

Cooper tugged at her hair, failing to contain her worry as her friends were led away to their fates. Adam placed a hand on her shoulder as a sign of comfort, but the gesture was not enough to calm the girl.

A thought clicked into place. The vague beginnings on an idea whose outcome eluded me. But it was a start, and it was better than doing nothing. "We follow them. Find out where they're going," I told the others in a hushed voice.

"And then what?" questioned Drew.

I shrugged. "One thing at a time."

We pushed through the dispersing crowd, making way for the main avenue that would lead back into the city center. I briefly caught sight of Culver and his bodyguard before being consumed by the mass of people leaving the warehouse district now that the auction was over. I was jostled aside by a mob and nearly trampled by a gaggle of drunk teenagers whose idea of a good time was watching people lose their futures. The masked man moved easily through the crowd, unafraid to push back when pushed himself; Drew had become separated from us; the kids were even further back.

"Do you see them?" I asked the masked man as he planted himself between me and a group of unruly men who were intent on steamrolling anyone in their way. They slowed and, having a second thought, went around us.

The masked man looked over the crowd and shook his head.

"Damn." Crowds had always been a distaste of mine. Though not fond of tight spaces I am not a claustrophobic, but being pressed upon from all sides hindered the very things I had come to rely upon for my survival: my agility, my senses, and of course the option to run like hell if needed. And, in this case, my ability to track someone.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled out to Drew, "We're going ahead! Take the kids and meet us at Chase Tower!"

"Got it!" yelled back Drew. Then, "What the hell is Chase Tower?"

"Probably the really tall building with _CHASE_ on the side," muttered Cooper as she and Adam made their way to where he stood, rolling her eyes.

"Oh. Uh... got it. Got it. Meet you there."

Me and the masked man dove into the crowd, me sliding my way through narrow passages while he forced his way through. Some, not taking too kindly to being pushed aside, turned to gripe but quickly thought better when confronted with the faceless figure.

We broke free from the crowd and rushed down the avenue towards the city center, moving fast but refraining from an all out run. Past experience had taught me that guards often took notice of those who seemed to be in a hurry. Were we just harmless bystanders late for some appointment, or were we miscreants looking to distant ourselves from a damning crime? Already the guards kept watch over foreigners. There was no need to further increase our surveillance.

"There they are," I said softly, slowing my pace. The masked man did the same.

Culver was walking leisurely through the markets, his path cleared as others scrambled to be out of his way. His guard followed behind, the raven haired girl, even more restrained than before, tossed over his shoulder. She struggled to free herself but was bound tight enough to restrict all movement. She had even been gagged so as not to yell into the ear of the guard that carried her. Beside them was the other girl, browsing the wares as she went with some interest. The guard paid little attention to the bespectacled girl - she could have easily slipped away without notice but never did.

"Don't stand to close to me," I told the masked man, who was more likely to attract attention than I was.

The masked man nodded once and stopped at a stand to browse pinkish fruit.

I did the same, stopping often to blend in with the crowd. I was sure that Culver and his guard were unaware that they were being followed, and I was intent to keep it that way. I held up a small toy and examined it before setting it back in place and moving on. I watched Culver. His movements. His gestures. Looking for any sign that would bode ill.

The girl who walked of her own will came to a stop and turned to face the street behind her. Her eyes met mine and I quickly ducked over to a stand to play with the little crafts. The girl watched me for several seconds before rejoining the others.

The masked man stood beside me, half a fruit in his hand. He offered it and I accepted, cringing slightly at the sour juices. Positive that all was good, we continued our stalking.

Culver entered the Circle, the exact center of the city both now and in the past. The tallest of the tallest buildings sat here, facing a brick street that encircled the monument: a massive pillar that stood tall, surrounded by granite soldiers forever on guard and atop which stood Lady Victory, torch in one hand and sword in the other. This was the glory of the city, restored to its former grandeur to be a symbol for the future. A monument to cement the rule of the Disciples.

By coincidence, Culver entered the Chase Tower.

This was where our pursuit ended... for now.

It wasn't long before Drew and the kids found their way to the Circle and spotted us.

"Where are they?" were the first words spoken by Cooper. I told her.

"Then let's go," suggested Drew, stepping towards the tower.

I grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Yeah. That's a good way to get shot. Disciple control that tower. No one gets in unless you're invited in."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" griped Drew, snatching his arm from my grasp.

"I really don't know," I admitted, feeling as if I had let them all down. "I'll think of something. I just need..."

Adam stepped forward. "I have an idea."

Ten minutes later and we were standing outside the tower's main entrance, our gazes turned upwards to a structure that reached for infinity. A sense of awe came over me as I marveled at the building, the very thought of its engineering amazing me. The accomplishments of the past, both small and large, intrigued me to no end.

Drew brought me back into focus. "We ready for this?" He sounded unsure of himself. I was surprised at just how far our of his way that he was going for strangers. Self preservation had always been his main goal. Everything else came second.

I nodded. "If not know then never."

Drew sighed, working up the confidence to do what came next. "Alright. Let's do this."

Leading the way alongside the masked man Drew pushed open the double doors and strode into the building, marching along with a sense of purpose and belonging. I followed next, pushing with me a rusted cart filled with various odds and ends and covered by a ratty tarp. I had abandoned my usual attire - and my gun for that matter - for little more than simple rags.

All a part of the plan.

The lobby had not been restored so as to greet those who stepped through, instead sacrificing extravagance for sheer intimidation. It served as a checkpoint where heavily armed guards screened any and all who sought entrance into the tower, allowing in those with valid reasons to be here and rejecting all others. On the far wall, hung so as to be spotted upon arrival, was a flag as red as blood emblazoned with the Disciple symbol.

We made it five feet into the building before being stopped by a guard. He approached us, making sure to brandish his SMG in a threatening manner. His eyes were completely hidden behind dark glasses. His head shaved bald to combat the heat. Etched into his armor were tally marks whose meaning I could only guess. "This tower is off limits to the public. State your business," said the man coldly, his voice rougher than the coarse desert sands. Several more guards watched, including a sniper that patrolled from the second floor.

Drew took a deep breath and, finding some courage, spoke aloud. "First off, I ain't public. Private contractor and a damn good one at that. Second, my business is here and with one Mr. Culver. So tell me where the old bastard is so I can be on my way."

The guard stepped forward, close enough to wring Drew's neck if wanted. "You're only half right. Your business is here and with me. Now, you have three seconds to get the fuck out of here before I rip your skull from your head and shove it up your ass. One..."

Drew paused for a moment but quickly rebounded. "My man. I am so sorry for my lack of professionalism. A proper introduction is required." He reached out suddenly and vigorously shook the guard's hand. "D.K.: adventurer, philanthropist, and private contractor for hire. And this here is my partner... uh... you know what, his name is not important. What _is_ important are the goods that I have brought here today. Artifacts of the old world painstakingly collected and, as the pièce de résistance, a young companion acquired from a beautiful oasis valley far to the north where the world and horizon meet." A small chuckle and a smile. "Mr. Culver will be quite please if I do say so myself."

All at once I was dragged forward and presented to the guard like a criminal to the judge. Others were now watching as well, intrigued by the performance that Drew was giving. The guard looked down upon me, an unamused scowl on his face.

"Greet the nice man," ordered Drew.

"Yo," I muttered.

I was hit from behind, a stinging pain radiating from the back of my head from where the hand had smacked me. "Do it right," Drew commanded with a genuine smile plastered to his smug face.

A look of death seeped from my gaze and slowly consumed Drew who did his best to not break down in forgiveness so that maybe I would show mercy. But, playing my part, I did as I was told like a good little slave. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said through a forced smile, adding a small curtsy that nearly made me vomit from the indignity.

"The bitch ain't that good," snarled the guard bluntly. Offended - and my feelings hurt - I stepped back to stand beside the cart. The guard turned on Drew. "Mr. Culver has no deliveries today. Now get the fuck out."

Drew was steadily growing more and more nervous, but he persisted. "True. Mr. Culver is not expecting any of this. Why? Because it's a surprise! Special delivery for his... um... birthday! Yeah, his birthday."

The guard raised his SMG and placed the barrel to Drew's temple. Others approached now, weapons ready. "It ain't his birthday," the guard growled, his finger looped around the trigger.

Drew was starting to panic. "He told me it was his birthday. Look, I'm just as confused as you are if not more."

"Who told you?"

Drew stammered. "Uh... uh... Francis?"

The guard stared into Drew from behind his dark lenses, as if examining his very being. Then, without warning, he broke out into laughter, leaving Drew (and me) dumbfounded. Some other guards joined in as well, and Drew added his own never chuckle. "Francis! That fucked up bastard. Just like him to do this. Alright. Alright. Go on. Floor 37, Room 4." Another round of laughter. "Culver is gonna be so pissed."

It took Drew a second to realize what was happening before he nodded. He stepped passed the guards and led us deeper into the lobby.

The guard grabbed onto the masked man's shoulder. "You. No guns. Hand it over."

The masked man showed no intention of handing over his rifle. The guard, braver than most, stood firm. Drew put himself between the two before things had a chance to get out of hand. "Look. My partner is a bit on the sentimental side. Rifle belonged to his father. His dead father. Goes everywhere he goes."

"Then he's not going anywhere," stated the guard coldly.

"He also busted his ass pulling this all together. He's gonna make sure that the jobs gets done."

"Then tell him to give me the gun." The guard made it clear that "no" was not an answer.

Drew clapped his hands together. "Better idea." He scurried over to the cart and dug around inside, careful not to disturb the tarp more than he had to. He found an old box and handed it over to the guard. "We give you that and go on our way. Everyone's happy. Deal?"

The guard stared down at the small box, through a small plastic window that displayed its contents. "It's a damn doll."

"Yes. But, this particular child's toy is a rare, limited edition collector's item. Still in the original package. To the right buyer this thing is worth hundreds of thousands of caps. And I'm giving it to you. Our secret." Drew raised a finger to his lips.

The guard thought it over. "What gun?"

Drew smiled. "Have fun with your fortune."

We boarded an elevated and headed up to the 37th floor. I looked over to Drew, the cart between me and him. "You know I'm shooting you after this."

"Worth it," said Drew without a single care.

"Was that doll really worth anything?"

"Not a damn dime."

A small bell chimed and the doors slid apart, allowing us to cross over to the sparsely populated landing. A few patrolling guards looked our way but said nothing. We had already made it passed the checkpoint so they felt no need to question our intentions. We found the correct hall and soon stood outside door number _4_.

"Do it," I told Drew. He took a breath and knocked loudly on the wooden door.

We waited a few seconds and were about to knock again when a small peephole opened about eye level. The tired guard looked out into the hallway and studied us, speaking in a gruff voice. "Mr. Culver is not expecting any guest today."

"We have a special delivery from Francis," Drew told the guard.

"Francis?" The guard paused for a moment. "Wait here."

The little door closed and we were left standing for several minutes. Finally the locks turned and the opened. The guard motioned us inside. Drew went first and then the masked man. I followed, pushing the cart along.

The former offices of the tower had been torn out and converted into apartments, many of which were owned by the Disciple leadership. The rest housed those who had proven themselves in one way or another. It was hard to tell exactly what position in society that the man named Culver held, but given his entourage of guards he was close in some way to the Disciples.

This unit, the home of Culver, was occupied by a myriad of collections ranging from the heads and skulls of fearsome beasts to finer antiquities collected from the dead world. Despite the clutter the floor remained open with the furnishings arranged so that they faced the center of the main room. A bookshelf filled with dozens of old books sat in the corner. On the opposite wall was a small end table and a radio.

Currently the Ink Spots filled the otherwise stale air.

Culver stood in the doorway that separated the main room from the small kitchen. He had changed into something more casual but still kept an air of superiority about him, as if he (and he was) the master of this domain. Yet the most noticeable trait about him was his eyes: sharp and colder than any desert night. He was a man who cared only for himself. All others were expendable.

To the right of Culver was a hallway leading deeper into the apartment. On his left stood a guard out of armor. Strapped to this man's side was a pistol. Behind us was the tired guard, still in armor though his weapon was nowhere to be seen.

"Francis always knew how to irk me. Always the joker," stated Culver, stepping into the main room. He paused to examine the head of a deathclaw mounted on the wall, and then turned to face the guard nearest him. "Remind me to return the favor."

The guard nodded.

Culver turned to face us. "Now, what do we have here?"

Drew cleared his throat and went into his act. "D.K.: adventurer, philanthropist, and private contractor for hire. This here is my partner, and this," he motioned to me and the cart, "is what Francis hired us to collect. An assortment of rare items and, to top it off, a lovely specimen from the far reaches of the north."

Culver's interest was peaked. "Another servant? Well, I am in need for a maid. At least until the others are capable of such tasks." He glanced over to the cart, a serpentine smile on his face. "Francis is an odd one. Always making a mockery of his father's work. And now, to offer gifts. To be brutally honest, I expected some sort of elaborate prank. But rarities you say?"

"The rarest of the rare," smiled Drew. "If ya would be so kind as to show Mr. Culver."

I nodded and reached into the cart, sliding my arm under the ratty cover. A small hand placed the .44 magnum in my grasp, and my finger looped through the trigger guard. My eyes shifted first to Culver and then to the masked man.

There was a small, almost undetectable nod.

My thumb found the hammer, a _click_ as it was drawn back.

A heartbeat. That was all the time it took.

A look of surprise came to Culver's face as the bullet tore into his chest. He choked on his words and stumbled back, landing under the gaze of the deathclaw. The nearest guard reached for his weapon but a second shot pierced his throat, painting the wall behind him a deep scarlet as he crumbled to the floor.

The masked man slammed an elbow into the gut of the final guard. The man doubled over and was swung around so that the faceless man stood over him. A gloved hand gripped just under his chin and jerked his head back so that the vertebrae of his neck separated with a sickening _crack_. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Adam and Cooper burst free from the confines of the cart, nearly tripping before catching themselves and running off to find their friends. The masked man turned his attention to the door, barricading it with the sofa as guards rushed down the hall, their hurried footsteps echoing dully through the thin walls of the apartment. Drew confiscated the deceased guard's handgun, as well as pocketing some valuables for himself.

I stood over Culver. His eyes stared into my own. He tried to speak, but his breath was labored. Blood stained his shirt around the wound. The surprise gone from his face, replaced now with anger. The deep fury of a man accustomed to being on top. He could not speak, but his eyes said it all. _I will kill you_.

I raised my revolver. "Francis didn't send us," I told the dying man. His eyes revealed to me that he already knew this much. I fired once more into his chest. His breathing came to a stop; his cold eyes dulled.

There was yelling outside the door followed by several loud thuds as someone banged a fist against the painted wood. When no one responded the men outside resorted to breaking in the door. The sofa, and the added weight of the masked man, held them at bay. The man looked my way and nodded. He could handle this.

I stepped over the dead man's body and rushed down the hall. It led into another, far larger room, cluttered even more with various kinds of trinkets. Watching me from the corner was a stuffed yao guai, its maw open and its claws ready to strike. Beside it, sealed inside a glass case, a battered set of Chinese stealth armor. Above me hung a crystal chandelier, swaying slightly in the stale air as the Ink Spots continued to sing their hearts out.

The apartment was far larger than I had expected it to be. I stood amongst the collection, wondering exactly where to go next. Several doors lined this room, and another hallway branched off deeper into the makeshift museum. Peering down it I spotted Adam and Cooper standing outside a locked door, shouting to whoever was on the other side.

I ran into the hallway after them.

A door swung open further down as another guard poked his head into the hall. I didn't hesitate and opened fire. The wooden door frame splintered as the round sped pass the man, missing him by inches as he ducked back into safety. The two kids, having failed to notice both me and the guard, screamed in terror and ducked down.

"Stay down!" I yelled.

Gunfire tore through the hallway as the guard fired blindly around the corner. I dove to the floor, the SMG rounds searing the air above me. Adam and Cooper pressed themselves as far down as possible, holding onto one another for dear life.

The shooting ceased as the man emptied his magazine, every round wasted in a reckless attempt to kill us. The armor case fell to pieces, its glass having been shattered by the wild flurry of gunfire. The yao guai stood in tatters, its arm hanging by a stubborn thread. I remained prone of the wooden floor, my magnum raised and ready. Beside me, the two kids dared not to even breathe. The air was overtaken by a stillness with the only sound being the radio in the other room.

The guard poked around the corner, checking to see if we were dead. He saw me sprawled out on the floor but it was too late. I fired. The spent SMG dropped into the hall as the man fell into the room. My revolver chambered its final round as I waited for the man to reappear. He never did.

"It's okay. It's okay," comforted Adam, still in shock himself. Cooper, with some effort, managed to calm herself and stood with the aid of the boy. I picked myself up off the floor and joined them at the door.

"What the hell is happening out there?!" came a muted voice from beyond the door.

"Everything's fine," assured Cooper. She took the golden doorknob in her small hands and twisted it as far as it would go, pressing her weight against the oak door. Adam joined her, yet still the door refused to budge. She looked my way and stated the obvious, "It's locked."

"Of course it's fucking locked!" yelled the trapped girl.

I pushed the two aside and told the girl behind the door to stand back. I gave her a moment to do so and raised my weapon, firing point blank into the deadlock and blasting it to pieces. A swift kick sent the door flailing open.

Cooper was the first into the room. I followed after Adam in time to witness the raven haired girl, despite her numerous protests, being caught in a firm embrace for which she could not pry free from. A stray tear formed in the corner of Cooper's eye, flowing down her cheek before being wiped away.

No longer bound by rope the girl was able to push Cooper away. "Get off of me!"

"As cheerful as always," commented Adam.

"You're okay," breathed Cooper in relief, toying with her friend's dark mess of hair.

"Of course I'm okay," Alex stated. "What took you so long?"

Gunfire sounded from the main room before anyone could answer: a fierce burst of automatic fire. There was a pause before several more shots rang out.

"Time to go," I told them, regretting that I had not hid spare ammunition on my person as I emptied my revolver of spent casings.

"Just a moment," requested the bespectacled girl from where she stood on the far side of the room. Her eyes browsed the overflowing shelves of a bookcase that was easily twice her height, taking her time to scan each book before reaching out to retrieve one. She glanced through it, returned it, and selected another.

"What the hell, Jessica!" yelled Alex. "What part of 'time to go' didn't you understand?"

The girl chose a thick book whose dusty cover had been worn thin. "It's so difficult to find books in the desert. They've all been scorched and ripped apart, treated as nothing more than toilet paper by ignorant buffoons." She sighed. "I wish I could take them all. Could you possibly carry some for me?"

Alex's sharp tongued reply was drowned out by a fresh round of gunfire. Hurried footsteps rushed down the hall and Drew sped pass the open door, sliding to a stop somewhere further down before returning to join us. The masked man came soon after, falling into the room as gunfire tore after him.

"Can't go that way," stated Drew, his recently acquired handgun shaking in his hands. "Shit. Those bastards tried to shoot me!"

"That's what they get paid to do," I quipped, rushing to aid the masked man. Together we pushed a heavy wooden dresser up against the door, creating a makeshift barricade to hold back the armed men. The guards tried to kick their way inside but were held at bay by the dresser's weight. They next resorted to shooting through the door.

"What now?!" screamed Cooper, pressing her small body into a corner. Adam was splayed out on the floor, his hands over his head. Alex lay near him, her shouts inaudible against the roar of gunfire. Jessica stood where she was, still uncertain as to which book to take with her.

The masked man reached into his coat and handed me several .44 rounds. I took them and loaded my revolver, snapping the cylinder shut once all six chambers had been filled. I pulled back the hammer with my thumb and pocketed the remaining rounds.

The gunfire sputtered to a halt and the men tried once again to kick down the door. It held firm, buckling slightly in the center yet refusing to open despite the abuse the door had just withstood.

"Exit strategy?" I asked the man. He shook his head. There was little doubt that he never planned too far ahead, preferring to tackle the situation as it changed in real time and not forethought. "Think we can take them?" The man shrugged.

There was a shout outside the door. I zeroed in on where I thought the voice came from and fired three rounds into the thick wood. The first buried itself in the door. The other two passed clean through. The guards scrambled to safety as a scream of agony filled the air. A thud as the injured man fell to the floor. Several more shouts made it clear that these men were unwilling to approach their fallen comrade in fear of another miraculous attack.

"I may have bought us some time," I said to myself as I reloaded the empty chambers.

There was a scramble behind me as Drew ran for the large bed that occupied a good portion of the room. I paid him no mind as I readied myself to fire upon the next guard who dared to approach the door. Then he called out, claiming to have a plan as to how to escape the tower. He had tied together several bed sheets and know searched for a way to unlatch the large window that overlooked the city, unaware that these windows were not designed to open.

"Are you insane?" barked Alex, piecing together Drew's plan.

"Do you know how high we are?" I asked, not expecting an answer. "I'd much rather take my chances with the guards."

"Trust me," assured Drew, still fumbling with the window. "We scale down to the floor below and get out from there. Gun happy bastards won't be expecting that."

I had to agree with him on this point. Who would plan ahead for a daring escape such as this? Dangling thirty stories in the air with nothing between life and certain death except for some old guy's bedsheets. It was suicidal at best, but it was the only plan so far.

I sighed. "Don't see much choice."

The masked man nodded in agreement. It wouldn't surprise me if he had done this before.

"You guys are crazy!" accused Alex.

"Afraid of heights?" teased Cooper from her corner.

"I am," added Adam lowly.

The guards were moving outside the door. I hurried over to the window. As expected it wasn't about to open any time soon. I took Drew's handgun and fired into the glass. It was thick and took several rounds before cracking. The sixth shot pierced through completely. The seventh shattered the window. I traded the gun for the bedsheets and proceeded to tie them to the heavy bed near the window. I wasn't about to let Drew tie the knot and fall to my death.

The guards, hearing the gunfire, began shooting. The door absorbed most of the rounds but it was weakening by the second. I stayed low and finished the knot, making sure that it was as tight as it could be before tossing the loose end out the window. The bedsheets dangled down further than I thought, reaching almost three stories down.

"Let's go!" I yelled over the roar. I emptied my revolver, what few bullets remaining in the chamber passing through the door and into the hallway. The gunfire died down a bit as several guards no doubt jumped for cover. A few of the braver ones stood their grounds and continued to pump round after round into the door and wall.

Cooper was the first out the window, sliding down the rope like a fireman's pole. Adam followed after her. Alex went next despite not wanting to at all. Then came Jessica who seemed more concerned about her books, making sure that the one she was taking was secured inside her shirt as best it could.

Drew lifted himself through the window. "Try not to fall," he said with a grin and disappeared.

"Asshole," I muttered, reloading my gun. The door was falling apart. The guards would be inside any moment. "You go next. I'll shoot anyone that comes in."

The masked man shook his head, reaching inside his satchel. He retrieved a flat metal disk and laid it flat near the door. A LED light came to life atop it. The door shook violently. The man looked over to the window and nodded.

We ran for it. The door flew open, falling off of its hinges. The guards sped in, firing as the entered. I grabbed the linen rope as I dove through the window, sliding down far too fast and nearly knocking the others from where they hung. The masked man was right behind me. There was a _beep_ and then an explosion as the mine went off.

There was silence save for the groans of pain from those who had survived the blast. My knot held tightly, keeping us suspended high in the air, our bodies pressed against the side of the building with no way back inside.

After a pause Cooper spoke. "What now? We hang out?"

"Not funny," growled Alex.

I peered through the window that we were pressed against. There was a long hallway on the other side. It was clear save for two guards who quickly spotted us and rushed towards the window, guns raised.

"Fuck this," I muttered, pressing my revolver against the pane of glass. I fired, shredding the glass in two shots and falling inside with the others. The guards panicked and aimed to fire. I was faster, downing one as I rolled along the floor. The other had his weapon seized by the masked man before being tossed out the window.

We ran down the hall towards the nearest stairwell. I ran through the door and was nearly shot by ascending guards. I returned fire but was soon outmatched.

"The elevator!" exclaimed Cooper as we ran down the hall. She pressed the _DOWN_ button what could have been hundreds of times before finally accepting that the elevator would not move any faster.

The masked man tapped Drew on the shoulder and approached the sealed doors. He forced them apart enough to slide his gloved fingers through so that he could pry the door open. Drew got the message and aided him, and together they got the door open. There was a service ladder directly across the deep shaft.

I led the way, leaping across to the ladder. It was easy enough. I grabbed onto the rungs and began the climb down. The masked man helped the kids across and then Drew. The masked man brought up the rear.

The elevator rose up beneath us. I pushed off from the ladder and landed atop the moving car. The others followed suit and we rose back to the floor we had just left before stopping. I could hear the guards in the hall. A few took the elevator down, unaware that we were just feet above them.

Nearing the ground floor we were able to make our way into a service area. No guards bothered to patrol these halls. Moving fast we were able to find an exit. Keeping low, we left the city.

* * *

><p><strong>In Loving Memory of Mom<strong>


	11. CHAPTER XI

**A/N: Got the next chapter done. Remember to review and whatnot. Criticism is welcomed and appreciated.**

* * *

><p>The sun's light was scattered by the thick trees that towered over the worn road, their branches crisscrossing to form a canopy above. Dark leaves hung motionless in the still air. It was hot like always, yet the shade underneath the trees kept the temperatures tolerable.<p>

A day had passed since our daring rescue in Indy, and we had put much distance between us and the hostile city. A prominent member of the Disciples had been killed and no less than a dozen guards lost their lives trying to stop us. I made a note to avoid the city from now on. It would be quite some time before I could show my face there without fear of execution.

"Are we going the right way?" mumbled Drew, sweating from the heat.

"There are a few settlements down this way," I told him, too tired to argue. "Some of them are pretty big. Unless the bastard plans to keep her for himself then he definitely went this way."

"Pfft. The last town we passed was little more than a row of houses."

I looked pass Drew towards the kids. Cooper led the march down the road, Adam close to her side. A few steps behind were Alex and Jessica, her nose deep insider her book. Bot hovered above them, beeping incoherently every so often.

Cooper had been beyond thrilled to find her friends, yet her mood quickly soured when one failed to turn up. Assuming that the slavers had continued east we had set off after them. There was no proof that this was the right direction. The slavers could have gone to any number of settlements, though the larger ones seemed more likely. Chicago was little more than a hole in the ground and we had not come across any slaver heading west. That left the settlements along the Ohio River and those farther east.

I hoped that we were on the right trail. I could tell that the girl was strong, but she also took responsibility for her friends' lives. If something happened she would never live it down.

"Are these trees still alive?" questioned Adam out of curiosity, rubbing his hand against the bark of one that grew close to the road.

"I think they are," I told him. I wasn't for certain but dead trees usually did not have leaves. Weirder still was that this was no lone occurrence. It was an entire forest. A deathly quiet wood absent of any wildlife. I checked my _Pip-Boy_. The Geiger counter pinged every now and then. "This area is irradiated."

Cooper shrugged. "Aren't we all by now?"

"Good point."

The masked man came to a stop. I asked him what was wrong but he held a finger up to silence me. He turned his head slowly, scanning the forest around us.

Then I heard it. A faint yell in the distance.

The masked man trotted off the path and into the wood. We followed closely, pushing pass brush and stray twigs that poked at our skin. The shouts grew louder with each step. An unintelligible cry for help.

"That's her," breathed Cooper, running off ahead.

I tried to stop her from going off alone but she was already gone. I sped after her, followed by the others. It wasn't long before we found the clearing. The remains of a small camp lay abandoned, the fire having died out long ago. Cooper was on the other side near the wood, nearly sobbing beside a lanky tree. Tied to the trunk was a girl.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" cried out the girl as Cooper freed her. No longer bound she jumped up and hugged her friend tightly much as Cooper had done the day earlier. "I knew you would come and save me!"

"I helped too," Adam said, going ignored.

I looked over the small camp: two sleeping mats, a campfire, food and supplies. "Where are the slavers?"

Still latched to Cooper, Hunter said, "They chased after something in the forest. That was a couple of hours ago. I think I heard their rifles."

Drew was shaking. "Hell. We got the girl now let's get our asses outta here."

I started picking through the abandoned supplies. The masked man did the same. "We need food and water. The slavers had more than enough. I'm sure they won't mind."

Drew's voice was low. "Something's going on here. Don't ya feel it? Like we're being watched."

"You're paranoid." I loaded my satchel with some dried jerky that I found. It smelled good enough and I assumed that it wasn't human. If it was, then I didn't want to know anyway. "The slavers probably got spooked by some animal and went after it only to run into something bigger. The girl's lucky she didn't become lunch."

A branch snapped somewhere nearby. The magnum was in my hand in the blink of an eye. The masked man had heard it as well and stood ready, the bolt of his rifle drawn back. Drew didn't bother grabbing for his weapon.

"What is it?" asked Cooper quietly. "Are the slavers back?"

"Maybe it's the animal?" threw out Hunter.

"Does it matter? They're just gonna shoot whatever it is," stated Jessica, still reading.

Something was watching us. Moving towards us. I could hear it now. Heavy footsteps and the crack of dry twigs. But I saw nothing. There was no one, human or otherwise.

I kept my magnum raised and stepped towards the tree line. The masked man crept along with me, both of us on high alert. Then I saw the shimmer, as if the light filtering down through the canopy had hit a crystal glass. Alarms went off inside my head and instinct told me to run. I had never doubted my instinct and had no plans to do so now. I jumped back without a second thought.

The ground exploded where I had just stood, spraying dust and dirt into the air. I saw the shimmer and then was hit with what felt like a brick wall. I flew from the ground and hit a tree far across the clearing. The pain was horrible though not unbearable.

The masked man dove for safety as the ground churned towards him. There was an angry roar, human but not human. A monster.

"Get out of here!" I yelled, spying the shimmer of light and emptying my revolver into it. The bullets struck something dense and metallic, denting in on themselves before bouncing into the dirt. I heard the roar once again and saw the shimmer grow ever closer.

Drew and the kids ran from the clearing. I chose another direction, hoping to draw whatever faced us away. There was an angry shout and the trunk of the tree that I had struck exploded into wooden shards. Something reached out for me but I was too fast. I made it to the center of the clearing. I forced myself to remain calm and reloaded. Panic would only get me killed.

The masked man rolled for safety, a second shimmer close behind him. It went after the man, a garbled threat leaving a guttural throat that I could not see. The man raised his rifle and fired, but nothing happened. The gun had jammed.

I fired towards the thing that threatened the man. Several shots bounced off but one passed through. Blood sprayed into the air as the thing screamed in pain. The shimmer became static before fading away entirely. Now I could see the thing. The monster. A mutant having lost its humanity: as large as a brahmin with skin that had become a sickly shade of grey. It gripped tightly at its own throat, stemming the blood that flowed freely between its sausage like fingers. Its eyes, cold and filled with unbridled rage, stared deep into the masked man's visor.

The man stepped away from the snarling beast. It was not true fear, only apprehension, yet even this seemed foreign to him. I could not easily picture the man any other way except for foolishly brave. Even when confronted with death he had marched on without a single care. Seeing him now I came to realize that despite my fantasies the masked man was only human, and like any human he was prone to the emotions that defined our humanity.

I'm not entirely sure why but I was glad. The man no longer seemed so terribly distant. We were the same. We are both human.

The creature reached out for the man. I snapped back to focus from my fanciful thoughts and, with no time to reload, charged forward. I planted both feet into the mutant's side, knocking it to the ground with a hard thud. I landed on all fours and pushed myself up into a run, grabbing the masked man as I went. He didn't hesitate and we fled the clearing.

The things chased after us, barreling through the wood like stampeding elephants, tearing apart stray branches and destroying helplessly small trees. I ran as fast as I possibly could, afraid of what would happen if those things caught up to us. The masked man grabbed me and forced me to change direction along with him. A few more times and we had manage to lose our pursuers, yet still I heard them combing the wood after us.

"Hey," came a low voice. I looked over to see Drew hiding behind a small tree, his handgun out and shaking in his hand. He waved us over and we joined him and the kids in hiding. "Just what the fuck was that thing?"

I took a moment to catch my breath before answering. "Super mutant... I think."

"The fuck's a super mutant?"

"I'm guessing it's a mutant for starters," stated Jessica, turning a page of her book.

"Travelers from out west told stories about them," I explained, reloading my revolver. "As strong as a deathclaw and dumber than a mole rat. Not a good combination. Never heard of them being this far east though."

"So what do we do?" asked Cooper, ducking down as a shout tore through the wood.

I reached into the man's satchel and found an ink pen and some crumpled paper. "We're done. You have your friends now go home." I wrote on the paper as best I could and handed it over to Drew. He was unsure but took it anyway. "There was a town not too far back from here. Get them there. Consider that payment."

Drew looked at the paper. "Ya autograph?"

"Didn't you want it? When I become a legendary badass of the wastes you can say you knew me."

A chuckle escaped from Drew. "My cousin's not gonna believe this. Always told me this story about how his ass was saved up near Gulch. Raiders held him captive, and this girl walks in and takes every single one of those bastards down. Nearly shit himself. Too afraid to even say thanks. Ya know, I think he's the one who started that whole _Angle of Death_ moniker."

"That idiot was your cousin? Thought your stupidity seemed familiar."

"Thanks. Ya a bitch, by the way."

"Good birds don't last long."

"Huh. Anyway, I'll get those kids somewhere safe. Ya gonna be good?"

"Please. From what I've heard super mutants are dumber than you are."

"Still a bitch."

"I know." A short pause. "Make sure nothing happens to them. And don't touch any of them or I'll have to come back and shoot your ass."

Drew gathered the kids together. I gave them some of the food and water that I had found. Cooper thanked me as she took the flask. There was a tear in her eye as she thanked me again, this time for helping her to find her friends. I told her to keep them safe. She nodded, and led the group into the forest, back towards the road.

I checked my revolver and turned to face the masked man. "You ready?"

The man nodded. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and took out his combat knife.

"That gonna be enough?"

The man gave me a look that put to rest all doubts of his effectiveness.

I shrugged and raised my revolver, aiming for the sky above. I fired three times, each shot echoing in the lifeless forest. I replaced the spent rounds and we waited. It wouldn't be long before the mutants zeroed in on us.

I looked over to the masked man. He had his back against a tree, ready for the monsters to show themselves. "You got anymore mines?" I asked him. He shook his head. "Damn. Would've been fun to blow the bastards up."

There was bark in the distance as something grunted orders. At least one had enough sense to try and take command. Not necessarily a good sign. I fired one more time, aiming into the wood where the mutant had been heard. Another grunt and a shout. The snap of twigs as several rushed towards us.

"They're coming," I said lowly. The masked man said nothing.

A tree branch snapped near the man. He spun around the trunk and slashed his knife, slicing upwards with the pointed tip. Crimson blood fell to the ground as the camouflage the creature used stuttered and died. The man threw his weight against the mutant, bringing it down to its hands and knees. He stood atop it and plunged his knife deep into the base of its skull. It growled once more and then went still.

Saying that I was impressed was an understatement. "Sorry I doubted you."

I saw a shimmer of light approach the man from behind. I raised my revolver and fired twice, estimating where its head may be. Both rounds found their target and the monster stumbled. Its camouflage died as well, leaving it exposed to several more shots that finally killed it.

I reloaded. "That was too easy."

The man nodded in agreement.

There was a shout of anger and the brush around us exploded with activity. Mutants charged at us, forgoing the technology that had kept them hidden from our eyes in favor for an all out assault. I counted four mutants in total, each brandishing bone breaking clubs and sledge hammers.

My speed kept me alive as the monsters swung madly. The first strike dug into the ground near my feet and I rolled back from the second's wild swing. The hammer missed me and struck the first mutant, but it was in too much of a mad fury to care and charged ahead recklessly. I took aim and fired three rounds into its kneecap, pulverizing the thick bone. It stumbled and fell, nearly foaming as it spouted garbled threats at me. The second came next, swinging wildly once again. I ducked under its attack and rolled behind it, bringing my magnum up and firing the remaining rounds into the back of its skull. It stumbled but survived, its thick skull having deflected most of the damage.

The masked man moved fluidly around the two mutants that targeted him. He dodged each and every attack with grace, yet could not get close enough to strike with his knife. The mutants stood opposite him, one on either side. They both screamed a vicious battle cry and charged at the man. Proving that intelligence almost always beat brute strength, the man threw himself to the side, allowing the mutants, already too invested in their mad charge, to crash into one another.

I snapped the cylinder of my revolver open, allowing the spent casings to fall to the dirt. I had enough time to reload a single round before the crippled mutant threw itself at me. I sidestepped and allowed the crude club to break itself on the hard ground. I raised the magnum level with the thing's oozing maw and fired. The back of its skull blew out and the thing fell dead.

The second mutant rushed me, swinging madly. I ducked low, the hammer missing my head by inches. It continued in its swing and brought the sledgehammer back around for a second strike. The thick head plowed into the ground near my feet, shearing away dirt and rock and stumbling me. I threw myself back, away from monster. It raised its weapon high and brought it down with enough force to shatter every bone in my body. I rolled to my left, narrowly avoiding the fatal hit.

The thing planted its heavy boot atop me, nearly cracking my ribs and pinning me firmly beneath it. It stared down with boiling rage, raising its massive hammer for a final strike. The masked man came fast, blindsiding the mutant and using his weight to wrench the sledgehammer from its grubby hand. The thing turned to snarl at the man. I reached into my pocket for the small knife I kept hidden on my person, jabbing the razor sharp blade into the foot of the mutant. It screamed in pain/surprise and relented just enough for me to slide away. The masked man spun towards the howling mutant, swinging the sledgehammer and slamming it into the mutant's head. There was a dull crack and the monster fell.

The final two mutants charged. The masked man dropped the unweildly hammer and readied his knife, rushing to head off one of the mad beasts. I managed to reload three rounds into my magnum before diving to safety. The mutant turned as sharply as a tanker truck and ran full speed towards me, a rusted car axel held high over its head. I fired once, striking the thing in its thick fingers. The axel fell from its hand with a hard crash, catching the mutant's feet and stumbling it. The thing landed hard, rolling on its back and staring in confusion up at the tree canopy. I stood atop its massive chest and fired the remaining two rounds into its head.

I quickly reloaded and turned to aid the masked man. He moved quickly, sidestepping and pioretting away from every attack the monster launched. He saw me taking aim and shook his head; I hesitated before finally lowering my revolver.

The mutant swung low, targeting the man's feet with a dented alluminum bat. The man leaped over the attack and brought the knife down, slashing the thing's arm and drawing blood. It yelled out in rage, striking at the man with an elbow. He ducked low and stabbed the blade up under the thing's ribs. He removed the knife and stabbed again, higher into the neck. The mutant tried to pull away but was brought down by the masked man. A final strike of his knife severed the thing's spine, ending the battle for good.

I approached the man as he cleaned his knife of blood, wiping the blade clean with the tail of his long coat. "You think that's all of them?"

The masked man sheathed his knife at his side. He raised his head and scanned our surroundings, looking for any sign of danger. Nothing moved beyond the trees. Like before all was quiet.

"Travelers from out west never reccommended getting close to super mutants, let alone with a knife. Guess you know how to handle yourself, huh?"

The man shrugged before heading over to the nearest fallen mutant. He studied it briefly before deciding that it possessed nothing of value. He did the same with the others, finding nothing worth looting save for some old Nuka-Cola bottle caps.

I stood beside the masked man. "Think Drew got them there?"

The man thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Hmmn. Alright. Lead the way then."

The man nodded once and quickly found a path through the wood. I followed closely behind. We reached the road and continued eastward, heading towards a destination that only he knew of with me at his side.

It wasn't long before we found the slavers. Or at least, what was left of them.

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><p><strong>In Loving Memory of Mom<strong>


	12. CHAPTER XII

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been really busy lately but I finally managed to get this done. I'm going to try and get more chapters done faster than I have been, but school and work leave me with only so much free time. If you're still reading this then thanks, and as always leave a review and whatnot. Criticism and critiques are always welcomed and encouraged. Thanks.**

* * *

><p>"I found a magazine!" I called out, more for myself than to him. I allowed the crinkled pages to fall open, my <em>Pip-Boy<em> held close so that I could more easily read in the dim light of the tunnel. "Damn, another catalog." I sighed in disappointment. "You find anything?"

The masked man stood several cars down from me, struggling to pry open the trunk of a wrecked Highwayman. Even when armed with a scavenged tire iron the rusted latch still proved defiant, keeping the trunk firmly shut despite the best efforts of the man.

"Just give it up," I suggested, discarding the catalog with a flick of my wrist as I strolled over to join the man. "You're just wasting your time now. Every car in here has been stripped clean. What makes you think that this one will be any different?"

There was a loud _snap_ as the latch gave way, stressed to its breaking point by the weight of the man. He threw the tire iron aside and reached inside the car, rummaging through an assortment of odds and ends before finding a metal tool case. There was relatively little of use inside. Beneath it, however, was an emergency kit.

The man gave me an undefinable look – possibly a cross between "_I told you so_" and "_I'm always right_" – as he examined the kit. Annoyed, I stuck out my tongue in a childish gesture and made my way towards the tunnel's end, my surroundings growing brighter as I neared the exit. I was more than glad to once again be under the sun's warming rays, never having been comfortable with being confined underground. Several bad experiences over the last few years had saw to that.

I examined the wide mouth of the tunnel. It was mainly concrete and rebar, the choice materials of the old word. Several days had already pass since parting ways with Drew and the kids. Me and the masked man had continued eastward along the old highway, our travels being uneventful until now where rugged terrain had made it a necessity for the road to delve underground during its construction. The better part of the last hour had been spent searching the myriad of abandoned vehicles for supplies or anything of monetary value. So far our luck had been less than spectacular.

I spun on my heels so that my back was to the tunnel, raising a gloved hand to shield my eyes from the sun's harsh glare to better allow me to gaze further down the barren stretch of road and the surrounding desert scrub. In an instant I felt my relatively good mood break apart and nosedive into utter incredulity. "Fuck my life..."

Dark clouds loomed over the distant horizon, drifting ever closer to where I currently stood. Lightning flashed deep within the coming storm, striking from one bloated cloud to another in brilliant arcs of energy. A formidable display that was soon followed by a roll of thunder. A gust of chill wind washed over the arid plains, bringing with it the strong smell of rain and sulfur. My Geiger counter screeched loudly as the breeze hit me.

I quickly headed back into the tunnel.

"We have a storm coming our way!" I called out to the man.

He looked up briefly from the emergency kit and shrugged. "_So?_" I imagined him saying.

"I'm not about to walk through a downpour of radiation," I firmly told him, leaving no room for an argument. The man glanced my way. I sighed. "Yeah. I guess I should be grateful that you wanted to search _every_ damn car in here, otherwise we'd be caught with no shelter." A short paused interrupted my thought. "I'm not though."

There was nothing else to do but wait out the storm. Until then we were trapped inside the tunnel for what could be a matter of hours or several long days. The man didn't seem to mind this predicament, busying himself with his find – as it turns out the Highwayman had been filled to the brim with useful goods. I, on the other hand, felt dejected. Being underground was not something that I typically enjoyed. It was too confined, not like the open deserts of the wasteland. Plus the clouded darkness of the tunnel was just a bit unnerving and my mind a touch too imaginative.

My Geiger counter alerted me to radiation inside the tunnel, no doubt blown in from the storm. Outside the sky had already grown dark. Thunder reverberated through the dank walls, joined shortly afterward by the ghostly wail of the wind. I used my _Pip-Boy_ to monitor the amount of radiation actually reaching us inside the tunnel. It was a nonlethal dose yet still I felt uneasy in spite of having lived my entire life in the wasteland. My genetic code had to be irreparably twisted, but added radiation didn't ease my mind.

With the man too busy to care I set off to find a truck or some other vehicle to sit inside of. It probably wouldn't be of much help, if at all, but I would at least feel better. There was a small roadster not too far down that suited my needs perfectly. It had been looted of anything even remotely worth taking, including its tires and headlamps, but its chrome body remained relatively intact. Of course I didn't plan on actually driving it anywhere so its condition didn't really matter. I just needed a secure place for me to sleep until the storm passed.

I was bending down into the car when I spotted the door, inset into the tunnel wall and hidden behind a thick shroud of shadows. It was partially obscured by an overturned Corvega and so had been overlooked by both me and the masked man. I now only saw it because of shear luck. Curiosity twinged inside of me, begging of me to investigate further. It would be some time before it was safe to venture outside, what harm was there in humoring my inquisitiveness?

There was a sign posted beside the door: _MAINTENANCE ACCESS_. I tried the handle. It was stiff with age but turned with some effort. I pushed open the heavy door, the creak of its hinges sending shivers down my spine. Anything could be lying in wait, ready to great me in the most horrific manner imaginable. Instead I saw only darkness: a blank canvas of the purest black. A sidelong glance took my eyes to where the masked man stood. He was still busying himself with the Highwayman, oblivious to both me and my own find. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the stale air of the tunnel before crossing over the threshold and into the inky blackness beyond.

I ran my hand along the filth encrusted wall to my right, using it to guide my way as I crawled blindly through the darkness. I carefully took each step, using my foot to test for any unseen obstacles that may be hiding in the darkness. An LED light blinked dully ahead of me. It must have been a sensor because the whirring of machinery could be heard as I approached and the few remaining emergency lights that still functioned came to life.

I was in a second, smaller tunnel that ran parallel to the first, serving some unknown purpose that was lost to me hundreds of years after its construction. Unlike the other, this tunnel was bare: too small for vehicles and yet unfit for prolonged human habitation. I assumed, like the sign had stated, that this tunnel was used for maintenance of some kind. Nevertheless I continued onward.

It wasn't long, a minute or two at most, before I reached the end. I was slightly disappointed for having wasted my time and was ready to turn back when I spied the opening: a dark and thin rectangle stretching up to where the tunnel curved in on itself. It was a door, though built to blend seamlessly with the surrounding metal and concrete. Painstaking detail had gone into hiding he doorway. I never would have known that it existed had it closed completely, the nearly flawless illusion ruined by faulty engineering. I studied the opening, staring into the darkness beyond, half expecting to see some monstrosity staring back with hungry eyes. I cursed my overactive imagination and turned my gaze to the door itself. It was difficult to ascertain why it had never fully closed, but the gap created was just large enough for me to squeeze through.

This path had been hidden for a reason. I didn't give myself time to reconsider.

A blackness darker than night awaited me on the other side, plunging me once again into blindness. Ignoring the rationalized fear creeping into my mind I took a few tentative steps, feeling the floor descend the deeper I went, taking me further underground. I increased the brightness of my _Pip-Boy_, hoping to use it as if it were a flashlight. It could barely illuminate the immediate space around me. Even my hand, when held close in front of my face, remained shrouded.

The ground leveled out beneath my feet. Goose bumps prickled my skin as the chilled air became heavy around me. I kept going, my eyes strained to make out what lay before me. Then I reached the end. A wall, hidden in the darkness, cold to the touch. I felt the grooves etched into the steel, cut deep in a geometric shape. I traced the lines with my fingers, following the curvature of what I assumed was another door. Then I saw the number, high above my head, nearly too dark to read.

_42_.

My heart raced with excitement, this feeling of euphoria surging throughout my thin body like an unrestrained flood during the fiercest of hurricanes. I pushed myself to see in the low light, struggling to follow the outline of the door. It was hard to see but I was sure of it. It was in the shape of a gear.

I had found a Vault.

A hand clamped down hard onto my shoulder. I screamed in pure terror, flinging myself forward in a frantic attempt at escape only to smash my face against the thick metal of the Vault door. Stars clouded my vision; the taste of blood filled my mouth. I ignored my probable concussion and spun to face whatever monster lay in wait in the darkness, my gun drawn and ready to fire. Instead I saw my own reflection.

The masked man stood there, hands raised, more confused than worried. An awkward silence formed between us. I finally lowered my arm and the man helped me to my feet. I was dizzy but somehow managed to not fall over. He retrieved a tissue from his pocket and began wiping at the blood dripping down from my nose. It hurt, but not much. No worse than my pride.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," I groaned, taking the tissue from the man. I finished cleaning myself up, my face hot to the touch. I was glad that it was dark so that the man could not see just how embarrassed I was for having screamed like a little girl.

My voice fell on deaf ears. The man stepped pass me, having finally noticed the Vault door. He placed a hand against the cold tempered steel, palm open and pressed flat, standing motionless for a long moment as if lost in deep thought.

I pondered over what the man was thinking, sensing a mixed emotion that I could not understand. He was still very much a mystery to me. His motivations. His goals. All that I knew for certain was that this Vault held some power over him. Or, thinking further, did all Vaults? Then again, it was hard to not become enthralled with such magnificence. An engineering marvel of the old world. A glimpse into the past. Maybe the Vaults held some power over me as well?

I stood at the man's side, my shoulder brushing up against him. "Let's go in," I suggested, knowing full well that this was the only option. Even I, with my incredible discomfort of being underground, had to wonder what lay inside. Adventure ran through my veins, and the Vaults were an excellent opportunity not to be wasted.

The man nodded before lowering his hand. An ancient terminal lay waiting adjacent to the door. Using his _Pip-Boy,_ the man was able to establish a connection with the dying machine. Engines warmed to life somewhere beyond the massive door, growing from a faint whisper to a vicious roar on par with that of the raging storm above. Metal screeched in agonizing protest as the seal was forced out of place – quite possibly for the first time in centuries – and slid aside by a powerful mechanical arm. Alarms sounded deep within the awaiting chamber; beams of yellow-gold light sliced through the darkness in a mesmerizing rhythm as if dancing to the shrill warning. Then everything came to a halt. The sounding alarms. The swirling klaxon lights. The dull thrum of the engines. The conquering lights and sound gave way to pitch blackness and the stiff silence of ruin. All that cared to remain was a stubborn emergency light, casting its weak glow into the void like it had done for so many long years.

The man wasted no time, stepping purposefully into the chamber with the dim lamp as his guide. I followed after him, retching as the stale air hit me full force and was inhaled by my unwilling lungs. The thick smell of decay. Of death and rot. Envy tainted my mind as I made for the man, nearly certain that his mask filtered even the most vile of gases. This was no doubt one of the many reasons as to why he wore it.

The man gave me a quizzical look.

A narrow hall took us further into the Vault, devoid of light just as the entrance chamber had been. Each step brought us that much closer to the interior. Side by side, our feet falling in unison. We marched on blindly even with the aid of the _Pip-Boys'_ pitiful light. A small annoyance that did little to hinder our progress.

And then we were forced to a stop. A security fence stretched across the hall, hastily erected yet sturdy enough after all these years to hold firm. I tried to push pass the gate but was held back by a decrepit lock that was too damaged to pick. An irritated sigh escaped me. "Great. You happen to find any bolt cutters?" The man nodded once before gently pushing me aside. A forceful kick obliterated both the lock and the hinges, sending the gate crashing to the dusty floor. I shook my head. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

The man simply shrugged as he stepped through the fence.

Beyond the now breached barrier lay the Common Area, what had once been a gathering place for those who had previously inhabited the massive bunker system. From this central and uppermost point various other sections branched off: the Cafeteria, the Medical Wing, and the Rec Hall to name but a few. Immediately below us were the Living Quarters. Farther still the Reactor. Above, watching over all with eagle sharp eyes, was the Overseer's Office. The command post of the entire Vault.

This was what humanity had strived to create in the final days leading up to war: a perfect utopia that would be the salvation of our species. But now it too had fallen to disaster, taking with it the lives of the people who had once called _42_ home. Everyone dead and gone. Even the Overseer with all his power could not escape the inevitability that was death. This Vault had become their grave, destroyed by some wayward pathogen or maybe by simple human insanity. A tomb forever lost in the vast wasteland, its secrets free to those who dared to enter.

So was the world.

My eyes were beginning to adapt to the ever present darkness, allowing me to see with a new found clarity that had before been lost. Shapeless voids now took distinct forms separate from the shadows, from the filth covered walls to the copious amount of trash that littered the floor around me. Every detail clearly visible. Most of the aluminum tables had been pushed to one side of the spacious room, used to create a simple barricade barring access beyond a destroyed entrance way. This Vault in its moments had not simply faded away into oblivion. Something horrible took place here, that much was clear.

I followed the man toward the tables. Whoever had been here had tried their best to fend off some great threat. Whether human or otherwise it didn't much matter in the end. At the very least they had gone down fighting. That thought brought no comfort to my mind.

The man spotted it well before me. A skeleton cowering in the shadows, its thin fingers clasped tightly around a busted radio as if their life depended solely on this small device. The bones were far too small to belong to some warrior facing down death. This had to a child, possibly no older than six. A circular hole bored its way into the yellowed skull. An act of mercy maybe.

It was nearly too much. The smell of death and decay forever hung in the stale air, invading my body with each and every breath that I took, like a disease taking root deep within me. The man stood still, unfazed and no doubt unaware of the harsh aromas that assaulted me. I was nearly certain that he smelled nothing but clean air beneath his mask. Still, even I could tell that he was uneasy.

This place...

"What do you think happened?" I asked, my voice low to the point of being lost to the silence that had permanently befallen the Vault. This dead utopia. As expected the man said nothing. He only stared down to the small skeleton, as if afraid it would disappear if his attention was diverted for even the slightest of moments. A darker though came to mind. "Where are the bodies?"

The man looked up to the small window above. The Overseer's Office. If any answers remained to be found that was where they would be.

We chose a path at random, keeping an eye out for anything that would shed light on the Vault's troubled past. Signs of battle marked the dark halls. Discarded guns, rusted and bent to uselessness, lay scattered at random. Discolored stains showed where blood had once flowed. As always the smell of death hung over us.

Though my eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, the lack of proper lighting still made it hard to see exactly where it was that we were going. "It's too dark. Do you think the reactor's gone bad?" The man shrugged in reply. "What else could it be?"

An intersection divided the hallway. Signs marked where each path led but were so worn and coated in what I could only assume was more blood that reading or even understanding them would be impossible. It was a gut decision but we went left, hoping that this was the correct choice.

"What about the emergency kit? There had to be a flashlight in there somewhere." The man reached into his satchel and produced just that, giving the small torch a little shake before handing it over. The light it produced was so weak that the man had not even bothered with it. "Damn battery is dead. Guessing you didn't find any of those did you?" The man shook his head.

Another intersection, this time with only _left_ and _right_ as an option. Like the last time we would be forced to make an uneducated guess. I understood the basic layout of any Vault but uniformity was not something that they all shared. Left _should _lead us to where we need to go, but right _could_ be just as correct. Without a map it was anyone's guess.

"Should we flip a coin?"

There was a sign mounted further down the left hall. It could very well be as useless as all the others but any help in finding the Overseer's Office would be a godsend, so I ventured off down the hallway leaving the man behind as he tried to make sense as to where we were. The walls around me were buckled and deformed, scorched as if damaged by some explosive. The floor groaned as I plodded atop it. I paid the sound no mind and continued towards the sign. To my relief I could actually read it.

Then came the _crac__k_.

My heart skipped several long beats, a pain filling my narrow chest as my body protested. The man turned to face me in the silence that followed. He tried to move but was slow to react. Another _crack_ filled the halls louder than any gunshot, and then the ceiling fell to pieces above me. Dirt and stone cascaded into the Vault from above, the damaged walls having finally reached their breaking point. My body reacted almost immediately, placing self preservation above all else as rock rained down around me. I dove for safety, landing hard in the dark hall, alone and cut off from the masked man.

Then all became silent.

A long moment passed before I was able to push myself up onto my knees. I was shaken and sore from my landing but otherwise unharmed. However, I was now trapped behind a dense pile of rock and dirt. I could hear the man on the other side, digging into the rubble in a desperate attempt to rescue me. I called out to him, "I'm okay! I'm perfectly okay!" There was a pause in his movement. "I wasn't crushed to death or anything, I swear!"

I stood completely and examined the fallen mass of dirt. It was solid, no way either one of us would be digging through with our bare hands. The only silver lining, if you could call it that, was that we were only separated. I was free to continue down the hall at my own discretion. It would only be a matter of finding an alternate path.

I looked over to the sign that I had previously been reading. Two arrows pointed in opposing directions: _LIVING QUARTERS_ on my side and _ENGINEERING_ on his. "We can meet up in the Living Quarters!" I shouted through the rubble. "Should be directly below us! You have to pass through Engineering! Maybe you can fix the power on your way!" A moment of silence and then the sound of footsteps leading away. I could only assume that the man had understood what I had said. A sigh parted my chapped lips. I was not looking forward to going on alone.

It was simple enough finding my way down to the Living Quarters. The labyrinth that was the Vault was geometric in design, so the few signs that existed were enough for me to deduce my way forward. The stairwell was blocked by more rubble with no visible way around, and, with the power outage, the elevator wasn't an option. In a stroke of good fortune – or faulty engineering – the elevator door remained open even with the car absent, allowing me to slide down the cables to the floor below. The lift had come to a stop just pass the second level, giving me a stable platform for which to stand on as I pried open the door.

The chaos of above was magnified tenfold here. Gone was the ruined utopia, replaced with what could only be described as a war zone. The damage was extensive, making me wonder how the entire level had yet to collapse in on itself. Walls were missing entirely from the landing while the floor itself was a patchwork of rat nests and holes that threatened to consume me if I misstepped. The spacious area beyond was slightly more intact, at least having a complete floor. Several lounges watched over this room from behind dark glass. I stared into them briefly, finding myself unnerved before moving on. The next hall twisted between the dormitories, seemingly at random to any outsider like myself. Many doors remained closed but just as many were left open, creating voids of space in the blackness. The feeling of being watched fell over me. The sound of rats scrounging for food could be heard from the rooms. I ignored it the best I could and continued onward, hoping to reunite with the man sooner rather than later.

The hall came to an end, branching off into three separate rooms each with their own purpose. One was general storage. The second a linen closet. The third was the Armory. Its thick door was still in relatively good condition, leading me to believe that maybe something of use still existed inside. Plus having a bigger gun would help with my anxiety. The absence of power made the keypad useless, meaning I would have to force open the door. As I had thought the door was in very good condition. I would have to come back once and if the man restored power.

As if on cue the lights came to life, dim but alive. I could see with relative ease for the very first time since setting foot inside _42_. The lights were no where near bright but were sufficient enough to light the bunker. Plus this would mean that the Armory door should be back online. It was, but without knowing the passcode I wasn't about to enter any time soon. A valiant effort but all for nought.

I was about to leave and find the man when I heard the scream. Something so terrifyingly human and yet so far from having any form of humanity. My mind raced to ghouls, but this was different. This was not a screech of agony and hunger. It was more primal. Full of fury and rage. Worse still, it was so close. Right next to me.

The storage room door shook violently as something struggled to break free of its confinement. A tentative step back, my magnum raised for the door and trembling in hand. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to run, but I found myself rooted to the spot by unwavering fear. I could only watch in horror as the door peeled back and the _thing _emerged. It may have been a ghoul. I couldn't tell. Tough looking security armor plated every inch of its body. A makeshift club, torn free from the Vault itself, hung limply from its hand, scraping against the grungy floor as the thing took a step closer, screaming in anger once I was in its sights.

I fired, the bullet ricocheting off the security helmet and into the wall. The thing stumbled but quickly rebounded, raising the club high to strike down at me. Strength returned to my legs and I ran, bolting down the hall faster than my scrawny body should ever have been capable of. Movement caught my eye from inside the open rooms. More of the _things_. A lot more. All awakening. All hungry. Howls filled the once silent Vault, a demon's orchestra that would strike fear into even the bravest and most foolhardy of raider scum. I had to move faster, or this would be the last thing that I ever heard.

I reached the open room, spinning around quickly to slam my palm against the keypad. They were coming, a stampede more fierce than any deathclaw. Almost too slow the door slid firmly shut, locking as it did. A magnum round tore into the keypad, destroying the mechanism and, hopefully, sealing the door for good.

The door buckled as the creatures slammed into it, striking out with whatever was at hand. It wouldn't be long before they clawed their way through. I had to be long gone by then. I had to find the masked man.

The glass window to the adjacent lounge shattered behind me. I spun to see another of the things leaping awkwardly through the opening, skidding atop the glass shards with a loud _crunch_. Cold eyes glared into me from behind a broken face. Blotted skin stretched tightly over a misshapen skull, its rotten mouth agape under a flattened nose. It moved with a hunch, as if its bones had been forced out of place and haphazardly rearranged. A blue Vault suit, tattered and torn, clung off the mangled body.

No scars of radiation or advanced purification. This was no ghoul.

It was something far worse.

A ghastly shriek echoed around me as the mutant came forward. Carried in its mutilated hand was a FAL rifle, ruined to the point of uselessness but still more than capable of bludgeoning me. I steadied my aim and fired, striking the monstrous human in the head and killing it almost instantly.

A second window shattered as three more mutants lunged into the room, slicing deep gashes as they broke free. Their wounds did nothing to slow them down as they charged towards me, chittering away with shrieks and yelps as if communicating with one another. Two broke off and circled around, flanking me on either side. The third continued to run straight ahead with nothing but its bare hands to attack me with.

I squeezed the trigger, my bullet shredding the mutant's neck and dropping it with a spray of scarlet blood. The second came fast from my left, raising an aluminum bat and swinging hard. A sidestep followed by an elbow sent the former human barreling pass me. A gunshot into its side left it sprawling along the ground.

The final mutant swung at me from behind. I twisted around to face my attacker, my revolver raised and aiming for its grotesque head, but instead my weapon was knocked away by the wild blow and sent flying free of my hand, landing at my feet. I raised my right arm to defend myself from the mutant's next strike, the dull sickle that it wielded piercing through my gloved hand and nearly into my face. The mutant ripped the weapon free and immediately plunged it into my shoulder, close to the base of my neck. I screamed out in pain. Grabbing onto the sickle's blade, I struggled to prevent it from going any deeper, feeling the edge slice into my worn gloves. A shriek as the mutant pressed its swollen face close to mine. Cold eyes stared into me. I stared back, able to see the spark of life that burned within. This was no mindless animal. It knew full well what it was doing.

This is what had become of the people of Vault _42_.

The sickle tore out of me, slicing my hands and dragging me forward. I stumbled, unable to do anything as the mutant swung once more. The blade dug into my torso, the jagged tip tearing across my chest and slicing down to my abdomen before emerging from my side. Every last ounce of strength left my body and I fell, seeming to fall forever before landing on my back. I felt no pain. Numbness had washed over me. Was this shock? The mutant stood over me, a conceited smirk crossing its distorted mouth. It raised the sickle and moved in for the kill. I could only watch.

The final blow never came. The mutant, distracted by something unseen by my eyes, looked up for the briefest of moments before its head exploded into a fine red mist. The ravaged body collapsed and the sickle landed somewhere near me with a resonant _cla__ck_. Hurried footsteps approached from behind, and then a shadow fell across me as the masked man materialized at my side, kneeling down with his hand raised and yet uncertain as to what to do. I looked at myself within his visor, my mouth trembling as I tried to speak. A finger placed against my lips silenced me, and soon I felt the man's arms slide beneath my injured body. It was mere instinct but I reached out for my revolver, grabbing onto it as I was lifted and gently cradled close to the man.

As I was being carried away to safety, the door that I had sealed behind me began to tear open. Several mutants scrambled through the small gap, crawling on all fours like mongrels before launching themselves into a manic run. The man was in no condition to fight with me in his arms so I did the best I could to raise the revolver. The round struck the lead mutant in the knee, causing it to tumble over itself with a sickening _crack_ as its neck twisted. I squeezed the trigger a second time but received only an empty _click_. A mutant tackled the man from behind. He whirled around with me still in his arms, throwing off his assailant and bringing his boot up to strike down another. More lunged forward with a savage ferocity, barreling into the man with little regard for their own well-being.

I was flung to the floor, rolling several times before coming to a stop near the wall. Pain seared down my front, joined by a sticky wetness that seeped into my jacket and short undershirt. The revolver was still in my grasp. An unsteady hand reached into my jacket, searching for the .44 rounds and struggling to reload the weapon let alone maintain a hold of the ammunition.

The man faced down the mutants, striking out at them with his rifle's wooden butt. One was quickly taken down by a blow to the head. A second tossed violently over the man's shoulder. The third was unfortunate enough to receive the serrated end of the man's combat knife to its throat, bleeding out in a matter of seconds. More mutants flooded into the room from the hall, one brandishing a still functional shock baton. It was quickly disarmed and the weapon turned against it, its body convulsing as the high voltage swarmed its central nervous system. Now armed with a much more effective weapon, the masked man valiantly squared off against the still growing horde.

The metal door fell to pieces as more mutants fought their way through. The armored mutant led the torrent, swinging wildly at the man with its simple club. The man ducked and jabbed the prod into the monster's side, stunning it briefly but unable to pierce through the thick armor. He dodge a retaliatory attack and spun to take down two more mutants, utilizing both the baton and his own knife. He threw the bodies into the mass gather for him, dispersing them so that they could individually be picked off. One was electrocuted and then another. Several more were sliced, killed outright or injured enough to be considered incapacitated. The knife was rammed into the chest cavity of a female mutant, puncturing a lung and tearing out muscle. The man turned and launched the knife from his hand, embedding it deep into the neck of another. He closed the distance and ripped it free, decapitating the mutant with a single fluid move.

The mutants were slowing their attacks, no longer rushing recklessly to their demise. They were organizing themselves, looking for a weakness. Coordinating their attacks so to be most effective. Two ran for the man. Three more circled around and flanked him, including the armored behemoth. The man easily handled the first two but was unable to react in time to stave off the others. Magnum rounds tore into the mutants, the entire cylinder emptied into their bodies, striking vital structures and ending their lives. The armored mutant collapsed to its knees and could do nothing to stop the brutal blow from the man that ended it.

The revolver was heavy in my hand. Firing it had taken every ounce of strength just to control the recoil. Now I had to reload, fumbling with the small rounds as I had done just moments before. The man was holding his own. I had time to...

A powerful blow knocked the magnum from my grasp, sending it flying across the room far from my reach. A single mutant had come to finish me as the others fought the man, being able to rush from the side and hit my weapon away with its own. I could do nothing but shield my head as it struck down with the rusted pipe, cracking bone with the vicious blow. My arms fell to my side, the pain too much to bare. The mutant raised the pipe once more.

Electricity surged through the air as the shock baton flew into the mutant. It screamed in agony, releasing the simple weapon as it lost control of its body. I was far too weak to avoid the pipe as it fell down towards my head.

Everything went black and I was lost to oblivion.

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><p><strong>... In Loving Memory of Mom ...<strong>


	13. CHAPTER XIII

**A/N: Sorry for the slow updating. Hope you guys haven't lost interest. This story will be wrapping up shortly and new things should begin taking shape if all goes well. Please enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>The gap toothed grin of a young boy and of his equally jubilant sister, the two of them running playfully through an impossibly green field without so much as a single care in the world. A rainbow stretched across the early morning sky high above the grassy hills, its once vibrant colors having faded to those of an insipid grey. Watching over the children, like a guardian angel, his face as smug as ever, was Vault Boy.<p>

This scene of forged splendor is what greeted me.

I was in the infirmary, laying flat atop a rigid cot with no memory as to how this had come to be. Awareness had returned to me but my mind remained clouded, my thoughts scattered and often times vague of detail. I was in the Vault, that much I knew, but the rest was little more than phantom shapes and fragments of what I could not recall. More concerning, however, was that vision had yet to return to my right eye. Worst still was the pain, a dull ache that had settled over my body and flared with the slightest of provocations. Every shallow breath, every tepid movement, every involuntary flinch of a muscle set my body aflame with renewed agony. It was nearly too much to bear.

A feeble whimper escaped me and almost immediately the masked man was at my side. He reached for a nearby table and produced a hypodermic, sliding the needle into my arm and pushing the drug into my vein. Relief flooded my small body as the Med-X flowed into me, and within a matter of moments the pain had subsided. Cautiously and with the assistance of the man I was able to sit upright on the bed. Pain still tore at me, but now I could withstand it with only a grimace.

The room was small and cluttered with an assortment of medical equipment and supply cabinets, all of which were worn by age and neglect. Several lamps held back the darkness with only a pitiful glow that was effective nonetheless. Three beds, including the one currently claimed as my own, rested with their headboards pressed firmly against the filthy wall opposite the door, which for now was locked tight. Hanging limply over each bed was a laminate poster spouting praise for Vault-Tec, RobCo, and denouncing the ways of communism, common sights during the final days of the old world.

Hesitant, I raised a hand to examine my non-seeing eye, feeling the cotton texture of medical gauze that was no doubt looted from this very room. I followed the bandages over my eye and around my head, running my fingers through hair that was matted to my scalp and sticky with what I could only assume was blood. More precisely, my blood. I examined my injured hand next, finding that I was able to flex my fingers with only a minimal amount of pain. Miraculously no tendons had been severed. I looked down to my torso then, seeing more of the medical gauze hugging my thin figure. A red streak stained the wrappings where blood had bled through, tracing over the wound from my shoulder and down to my waist.

I was lucky, very lucky, to be alive.

It was only after I had finished inspecting my injuries that I became self-conscious of the fact that my upper body was bare. The man had undressed me to better attend to my wounds.

He had undressed me...

My face grew hot as it turned a shade reminiscent of bloodied beets. Quickly, I moved to cover myself but instead received a jolt of pain from my hurried actions. The man reached out to help but I turned away, ignoring the pain and hiding myself beneath a sheet. "Can I have my jacket?" I requested rather meekly, not so much as even showing my face.

A moment later and I was clothed and on my feet. I couldn't move fast without pain tearing at my body but I could stand on my own well enough. The man offered me another Med-X but I declined. I needed my mind sharp. I would simply have to endure the aches and pains until we were safely outside the Vault, and away from what lay lurking in the darkness.

"Are we safe here? Did those _things_ follow us?" I asked the man, finding my revolver on my bedside table. The weapon had always been heavy for its size but now its mass felt doubled if not tripled. It would be a long while before I could shoot straight again.

The man shook his head.

That was good. Avoiding those monsters entirely would be for the best. I wanted to ask the man just how he managed to drag me to safety but I knew I wouldn't get an answer. Maybe a shrug but nothing more. Instead I asked, "Can we get to the entrance from here?"

Again, the man shook his head.

"Of course," I sighed. "So, any ideas on how to get outta here?"

The masked man thought for a brief moment before nodding. He slid the hunting rifle over his shoulder and then raised a gloved finger to where his mouth would be in the universal sign for "quiet", no doubt intending for us to rely on stealth rather than strength, for which we had none. Before I could voice my concerns – I was, after all, injured and would likely be unable to move quickly or silently – the man lifted me up into his arms, holding me like a groom his bride. My face flushed but I beat down the embarrassment. I could barely walk as it was, let alone run if the need arose. This would be faster. Still...

I wrapped a free arm around the man's neck to steady myself. My other hand loosely held my magnum should I need it. "Don't... don't drop me," I muttered softly, a stern edge to my voice that held little to no force.

The man made no indication that he had heard me. He unlocked the door and, wary to what may be awaiting us in the darkness, stepped out into the hall with me in his arms. The light here was even more sparse than it had been inside the room, yet even with shadows reaching from all sides I could tell that we were alone. The man set off at a brisk pace, careful to remain as quiet as possible, a feat made difficult by the deathly silence of the Vault where even a heartbeat sounded as loud as a drum.

"You know where you're going, right?" I whispered into the man's ear. He nodded, eventually.

It wasn't long before we ran into one of the creatures, what may have once been a young man not much older than me. It was loud: its footsteps heavy and its wheezing breath ragged and wet. It wandered the halls, alone and oblivious to the fact that we had spied it first. I was set down and left to watch as the man silenced the creature, reaching out as a shadow and slicing its throat to the point of decapitation. The severed head rolled away from the body, unaware that it had died.

The farther we went the harder it became to go unnoticed. It was rare to find the creatures alone. Often times they moved in pairs or in groups as large as five. They were nothing like ghouls, feral and having gone mad. Intelligence had not left them completely. Coordination. Ingenuity. A monstrous pack of wolves that actively searched for prey. For us. Soon we found our path blocked by a roving patrol and had little choice other than to retreat.

"What now?" I asked, using a table to lean against as the man locked the door behind us. We were taking shelter in what may have been a doctor's office, a brief respite so that we could plan our next move in safety.

A few papers lay about the table, faded beyond the point of reading. There was a Vault Boy bobble head with the inscription _INTELLIGENCE_ along its plastic base, and beside it a _Big Book of Science _and _D.C. Journal of Internal Medicine_. The room itself was plain save for a few diplomas proudly displayed along the walls. One read _Harvard_ and another _M.I.T._, both addressed to an Alexander Grell. A dusty computer sat in the corner, its LED blinking dully as it awaited the return of its owner. I made the few painful steps to where it was while the man studied his _Pip-Boy_.

Grell was still logged in.

_28 May, 2083: Message, Overseer Clark:_

_ I know you claim to work for Vault-Tec and even the government, but remember that I am the Overseer of this Vault and that you will follow my orders. Our objective is to observe the effects of poor lighting, not to directly intervene nor improve our genome. Don't act freely again or __you will find yourself down in Detention. I hope I make myself clear._

_16 September, 2083: Message, Assistant Michaels:_

_Testing went as planned.__ 30% improvement in the subjects' sight even when left in total darkness. I request authorization to increase exposure to the strain._

_2__4__ December, 2083: Message, Assistant Michaels:_

_The subject suffered catastrophic mutations shortly before death. __Dosage too high. More testing will be required. The body was disposed of via incineration without security or Clark taking notice. Requesting authorization to continue FEV testing._

_14 February__, 2084: Message, Assistant Michaels:_

_Security attempted to interrupt the experiment, resulting in FEV containment breach. Catastrophic mutation to the subject. Killed three men and injured two others before being stopped. FEV exposure has been kept to a minimum, however, the injured men show signs of infection. Recommend termination to prevent human-human transfer._

_ 14 February, 2084: Message, Overseer Clark:_

_ Three men dead. Another two gravely injured. And that fool Michaels __recommending their 'termination'. You are responsible for this disaster. You and that abomination. Do you think to play God? Consider this your official notice of dismissal. Security will be down shortly. Make this easy for yourself._

A hand came down on my shoulder, startling me enough that I very nearly fell from my seat. The man stood behind me, looking down at the computer with little interest. "Don't scare me like that," I berated the man, though I was more upset with myself for being scared in the first place. "We ready to go?"

The man nodded as he helped me to my feet. I followed him to the door, which he unlocked, and waited for whatever it was that he planned to do. Shock must have registered on my face because the man soon had his hand atop my head as if to placate me. In his other, primed and ready to be thrown, was a fragmentation grenade. He gave a curt nod before stepping out into the hall and lobbing the explosive down an adjacent corridor so that it bounced well out of sight. Quickly, he ducked back into the room and out of sight. I did the same.

A resounding blast shook the Vault as the grenade detonated, a deep booming magnified tenfold by the stillness of the halls. And then it faded, replaced instead by another sound. The sound of running feet and ragged breathing. Of shrieks and yells and wails. I saw them, the monsters that they had become, running wildly pass where we hid, drawn to where the grenade had gone off like grotesque insects to an open flame.

The last had only just tromped by when the man threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. I did my best to ignore the sudden onrush of pain as we sped out into the hall and down to where creatures had once been. Our path was clear, and we moved quickly for a time.

If only it were to last.

The shriek came long before we saw them, horrible and full of hunger and rage. The man tensed beneath me; I readied my revolver. A sawtoothed man, his body worn ragged by age and disease, barreled into the hall after us, right into my line of sight. I gritted my teeth against the magnum's recoil as I fired, the .44 round striking the creature in its gut and felling it. Another, a woman whose dark hair had all but fallen out, joined in the pursuit as the first scrambled back to its feet.

I readied another shot but suddenly found my world twisting around me as the man darted down another corridor. Three more of the creatures came down after us, five total now. Three rounds escaped my magnum as I fired, the ache in my arms worsening with each squeeze of the trigger. The lead creature fell, dead with a wound to its head. A second joined it as the other two rounds bored deep into its chest cavity.

Again I was spun around as the man turned to face the coming monsters, their numbers swelled to eight as more joined from the darkness. A door slid close between us and them, and a boot to the keypad destroyed the locking mechanism, barring access to the growing mob that pursued us. The door shook as the creatures threw themselves against it, doing little other than making noise.

A movement in the darkness.

The creature stampeded recklessly after us, howling like a beast, overtaken by a mad fury. The man turned but was blindsided by another that had lain in wait. I fell hard to the ground, nearly blacking out as the pain tore at me. The man rebounded quickly and moved to face the two monsters knife in hand: a gangly man with a shock of white hair, the other adorn in protective security armor. Further down the hall another pair charged into the fray with me between them and the man. I managed to my feet and took aim.

The two leapt at the man. The first was knocked back with a kick while the second had its momentum turned against it, being slammed into the wall behind. The man continued in an arc and plunged the knife deep into the soft flesh between the ribs of the first. A jagged movement shredded the heart. The second, armored creature returned to attack as the first fell. Again, using its weight and momentum, the man swung it around, bringing the knife into its neck and sawing under the visored helmet it wore. Black blood splattered the floor and walls as the man tore the blade through flesh and bone, leaving only a few strands of tissue to hold the head in place. The creature fell with a _thud_, twitching as death came to it.

A boy younger than myself wailed in pain and anger as it fell to the cold floor, its knee shattered by the magnum round. The other, a muscular man in a soiled lab coat, ducked low and pivoted, moving erratically so as to throw my aim off. I tracked it with my eyes, my hands slow to follow. It saw an opening and pushed forward. I fired blindly. The creature roared as it stood before me, its face inches from my own, so close that I could read the stitching of its coat: _Michaels_. A bloody flower blossomed from its chest as the former man fell, forever silent.

I was at my limit now. No longer could I ignore the pain that ate away at me. My arms burned; my legs were growing weak; the gash across my front was bleeding once more. Then I could stand no longer, and I would have fallen if not for the man. Again I was in his arms, and again we were on our way through the darkness. Consciousness left me then for the next I opened my eyes we stood before the massive gear door.

My voice was little more than a tired whisper when I spoke. "Are we really leaving?"

The man nodded. That was all the answer I needed.


End file.
